


Forsaken

by sturms_sun_shattered



Series: Forsaken [1]
Category: Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity (Video Game), The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Background Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Past Relationship(s), Politics, acquaintances to something less well defined, eventually, i said medium burn initially but it might actually be a slower burn than i thought, if you consider hwaoc canon, there was a cost to defeating the calamity and the cost was the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sturms_sun_shattered/pseuds/sturms_sun_shattered
Summary: The Calamity was averted, but at what cost?  The future is rewritten, alliances that were sworn in blood sour, and displaced in time, Teba and Sidon have no one to turn to but each other.
Relationships: Prince Sidon/Teba (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Forsaken [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170746
Comments: 60
Kudos: 39
Collections: LoZ: Botw/AoC Rareship Bingo





	1. A Capricious Goddess

**Author's Note:**

> For the Teba/Sidon square in rareships bingo.
> 
> Thank you to [acacias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acacias) and [DeathByStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByStorm) for reading this early on, beta'ing, talking character stuff, and general encouragement. I'm grateful to have such wonderful multishippers looking over my stuff and encouraging me to write for a ship that has no tag yet ♥
> 
>  ** _Content warnings are located in the notes at the end of the work_** to prevent spoilers for those who don't want them. Chapter notes will mention content warning updates.

**Teba**

Teba was no stranger to battle. He had first held a bow when he was barely Tulin’s height, his father impressing upon him the importance of the skill and of warriorhood. Even his years of pushing back the monsters at the borders of Rito Territory could not have prepared him for what the Goddess called upon him to do.

The Calamity had been one endless siege after another, and now that it was all over, he stood with his companions and stared out at the battlefield. From the height of that ruined castle—not so unlike the one in his own time—the world around still burned. Ganon had been defeated, but Hyrule was still in need of restoration.

_Warrior._

The world around seemed to disappear into a shimmer of blue light. Teba glanced around to see that those Champions of Old had gone, Link and Princess Zelda were gone, but to either side stood the allies from his time he had fought beside these long days.

“What is this?” Sidon asked, glancing about.

_You have performed your duties admirably, thus erasing the world you knew._

“What?” gasped Yunobo.

_To defeat Ganon is to demand a sacrifice. In your world, that sacrifice was the lives of the Champions._

“And here, it is us. Our future,” Riju realized, far too observant for her tender years.

“We were told we could return,” Teba said heatedly. “That we would be reunited with our families once more!”

_Your families—such as they are—no longer exist. In rewriting the pages of history, your world has been rewritten._

“That’s not fair!” protested Yunobo.

“Surely, there must be some way that we might go to that world,” said Sidon, the note of desperation in his voice overtaking the usual polished diplomacy.

_You agreed to return to rewrite the past. If you claim to be so ignorant of the workings of the world, you are not deserving of this honour._

“Send us back!” Teba shouted.

_There is nothing to which you can return._

“Then I don’t care! Send us forward! Return me to my wife and son!” Teba railed, his voice still furious and strong in spite of the breaking hopelessness in his chest.

_Did you think you would be rewarded for your actions, Warrior?_ her voice taunted.

Teba couldn’t respond, choked as he was by anger.

“How can you punish us for what we have done on your behalf?” bargained Sidon.

_The world is not made of punishment and reward; it simply is. Farewell Champions._

“You capricious crow!” Teba shouted as the blue dissolved around them and left them standing once more on the broken cobbles of the castle rampart.

Teba found himself facing the stares of the four Champions, Revali strangely smug despite the puzzlement of the others.

“Whomever are you shouting at?” Urbosa asked, her brow furrowed at Teba.

The words caught in Teba’s throat and he feared he may weep. Beside him, Yunobo had already broken down and Sidon stood still and straight.

“We’re...meant to stay,” said Riju finally. “We can’t go back to where we belong.”

Zelda’s voice broke in a soft ‘oh’. Daruk scratched the back of his head, his expression grim. Revali seemed strangely annoyed by the revelation, his eyes narrowed at Teba.

“It seems that our world no longer exists,” Sidon explained as Mipha reached out for his hand, her eyes deep with sorrow.

“Well,” said Zelda, her voice taking on the tone that Teba had noticed she used to placate those around her, “the kingdom will not turn you out. You shall be granted the honours and privileges of your rank. We have need of persons with such renowned skill.”

As the group began to move on, leaving behind the empty husk of their victory site, Teba stood frozen to the spot.

“Teba,” said Sidon softly.

Teba glanced numbly up at the Zora. How was he to take this all? His world did not exist...the people he loved most—Tulin, Saki, Harth—simply were _not_.

_A warrior freely gives himself to the cause of protecting others,_ his father had told him from the time he could hold a bow. _We do it not for glory or honour, but for the love of those we hold dear._

As Teba had sat vigil over his father’s broken body he had remembered those words, and they granted him the comfort which kept his tears at bay that terrible night. His father had given himself to ensure their people’s safety—Teba’s safety. But what safety could Teba grant those whom he most loved?

Teba barely noticed that they had made it back to the smouldering ruins of Castle Town, Sidon’s hand still resting gently on his shoulder.

**Sidon**

It was not much of a celebration, truth be told, but Sidon was glad to partake in what cheer could be mustered in the outpost south of Castle Town. For all the Hylian soldiers shouted and caroused, their tankards of cider in hand, the destruction was only a glance away. 

Indeed, the very garrison mess in which they drank and ate had lost part of its outer wall, and Sidon could stare out into the smouldering fields of Hyrule. It hardly seemed a time for such an attempt at merriment when so many were bound to be displaced from their homes, and so much was left to be done.

“What troubles you, dear brother?” Mipha asked, her tiny hand on his arm as she joined him on the rough bench.

How strange it remained to see her like this when she had been preserved in his memory as the face he looked up to, even as she knelt to speak with him. How strange that he towered over her.

“I had looked forward to a future where you would be by my side,” he said. “That we might repair the Domain together.”

“We can do that here,” Mipha assured him.

“You have a brother who is in need of you more than you know.”

“And I believe he is sitting by my side,” she said astutely.

Though now over half a century younger than he, Mipha remained the elder in spirit, and Sidon was helpless to do anything but follow in her lead.

“I have no cause to complain,” Sidon conceded. “Everything I have ever wished for has been returned to me, and yet I have never felt so uncertain.”

Sidon glanced about to his fellow warriors. Yunobo sat miserably at the edge of the gathering, Daruk patting his shoulder and gesticulating in an effort to cheer him. Riju spoke solemnly to Urbosa, her jaw set in determination. Perhaps their youth would be an asset, the resilience of their ages allowing them to better adapt to a world when they had barely grown used to their own.

It was Teba for whom Sidon worried, but neither he nor Revali were to be found in the garrison mess.

“I fear I am in no mood for such festivities,” Sidon told Mipha. “I might retire for the evening.”

“It has been a long day,” agreed Mipha, that endless concern still in her eyes.

She rose as Sidon did and inclined her head slightly as she bid him goodnight. She didn’t follow him, for which he was surprisingly grateful, though not surprised; Mipha always seemed to sense when others wished to be left on their own.

Sidon left the cheerful uproar of the hall behind and carefully avoided the Hylian and Zora guards who had sneaked off outside to be together away from prying eyes. Victory always seemed to yield such happy alliances, Sidon thought as their stifled giggles echoed through the fallen stone.

On the way to the barracks Sidon stumbled across Teba. The Rito warrior sat amidst the broken masonry near an open fire, staring up to where Vah Medoh circled overhead. Medoh’s blue light was a balm to Sidon’s soul after the memory of Vah Ruta’s corruption in his own time, but Teba’s expression was desolate as he stared up at the Divine Beast.

For a moment, Sidon thought to pass him by, but he could not abide such misery without intervening.

“Teba, my friend,” Sidon greeted him as he approached the moody warrior. “Might I join you by your fire?”

“I won’t stop you,” said Teba, the edge of defeat in his tone contrasting harshly with the sounds of celebration ringing through the garrison.

“What has become of Revali?” Sidon asked.

“He’s retired to Vah Medoh. He doesn’t well tolerate Hylian drunkenness.”

Teba, it seemed, had no more to say on the topic of Revali and stared sullenly into the fire in. As the wood snapped in the flame, cinders sparking in the cool night air, the silence dragged on between them until Sidon could no longer bear it.

“I am so very sorry,” Sidon said finally.

“I didn’t wish for Master Revali’s company on this grim evening...”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sidon amended.

“Kass always said the Goddess was malicious...I suppose I’ll never see him again either.”

“You might well adjust to this world,” Sidon offered. “It is not so different.”

“Perhaps not for you long-lived Zora. Your world changes slowly by all accounts, but my great-forebears have not even been hatched,” the firelight flickered in his hawkish eyes. “My home is... _not_.”

Teba stared into the fire in silence, and Sidon desperately wished he knew the magic words to renew the warrior’s spirit. Silence had never been a friend to Sidon, but all the words of encouragement that sprang to his mind died on his tongue at the desolation in Teba’s eyes.

“I answered the call without hesitation” said Teba. “I knew I risked my life, but it is what a warrior does for the love of his home; for the love of his of his family...only now I am left with neither.”

As Teba sat unmoving into the dark night, Sidon remained by his side, lost for words at Teba’s misery.


	2. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zora euphemism for death ‘returned to the water’ provided by [acacias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acacias/pseuds/acacias/works).

**Sidon**

It certainly looked like home—the mist that hung about the air, churned up from waterfalls; the luminescent glow from the rippling stone architecture; the glistening rocks that seemed always to shine with the light of the Domain. Somehow, in spite of it all, Sidon felt this wasn’t quite home.

It was evening when he arrived with Mipha at his side. and the Zora Guard at his back. It all felt unreal. He recognized his peers in the faces of children and youth who rushed about. The guards who bowed their heads in deference to him were withered old men and women in his memory. And his father—Dorephan was just the same but without the wear of grief about his eyes.

“Attend me, my son,” commanded Dorephan in fond disbelief. 

Sidon stood before his father and watched the smile in his eye—not so obvious as to be noticed by those who stood by, but it was a warmth that Sidon had never known in his own Dorephan, permanently mired in grief by the loss of his daughter as he was. That terrible reminder of his own world ever present, he glanced down at Mipha and she smiled encouragingly back up at him. It all still felt a dream to him.

“How good it is to know how you have grown—the see the man you have become,” said Dorephan.

“Father, Sidon must stay with us. It appears he has no path back to his world,” Mipha reported, and Sidon was struck by how much younger and tinier she seemed than her effigy in his Domain, yet her sweet voice commanded kings.

“Of course. It would not do to turn out my own son. And what of your Hylian knight, my daughter?”

“Not coming, I’m afraid,” she said softly, and for the first time since he had arrived, Sidon could see the very real pain in Mipha’s face.

“We have no place for such a swine,” asserted Muzu.

“Muzu, I’ll kindly ask you to keep a polite tone,” Mipha said. “All of those who sealed away Ganon are deserving of our respect.”

At that, Muzu shifted his gaze to rest upon Sidon. No stranger to Muzu’s scrutiny, Sidon stood unfazed and returned his eyes to the king.

“Your Majesty,” Muzu appealed to the king. “Are we even certain that this man is who he says he is?”

“I am Sidon, Muzu,” he said patiently. “Just as you instructed Mipha, you instructed me. Who else would have taught me how the _‘tadpoles get into the pond’_?”

Muzu shifted his weight at the uncomfortable euphemism, clearly not used to being so set upon.

“Please,” Dorephan gestured to the royal secretary. “Have some quarters found for...Prince Sidon.”

“Father, I can take him,” Mipha offered.

“Very well. Rest...both of you. The Goddesses know you’ve earned it.”

Sidon followed his sister down through the lower levels to her own quarters, where she dismissed the guard.

“Would you have me stay with you?” asked Sidon.

“Only if you so wish,” said Mipha.

Sidon nodded, a sharp smile breaking through in spite of his fatigue. As they settled into the tepid pool for rest, Sidon watched the water gently lapping at Mipha’s chin. Her eyes shone with unbearable sadness—a sadness that Sidon did not remember in the hazy memories of his Mipha.

“I’m sorry that Link rejected your gift,” said Sidon.

“How did you—?” Mipha’s whisper echoed off the surface of the water.

“I know because of...what you left behind: armour, cut for a Hylian...that fit Link.”

“He has his own duties in the service of Princes Zelda,” said Mipha, the strength in her voice not quite covering the sorrow. “Perhaps it was misguided of me not to have seen that.”

Sidon reached out beneath the water’s surface to rest a hand upon her shoulder.

“And what of you, Sidon?” she asked. “Have you someone whom you love?”

“No,” confessed Sidon. “Though perhaps that is for the better, for I don’t know that I could bear to leave them behind to join this life.”

He thought briefly of Teba, benumbed to the world over the loss of his wife and child, and Sidon still wished desperately that there was something he could do for the Rito warrior. He prayed that he might find solace upon his return to Rito Village.

“You will do well here,” Mipha promised. “You’re surrounded by friends.”

“I’m sure I will,” smiled Sidon, but even he could feel the falsity of it. “We shall both do well with the time the divine has granted us.”

**Teba**

The wind whipped that familiar cold down from the Hebra Range, just as it did in his own time, but the village looked much different from what he had known. It was a thought that Teba had pushed aside as he soared down from Vah Medoh, Master Revali at his side. It was a thought he had set aside to share with Harth when he finally returned.

“You would be suited to a position among the warriors—if you so choose,” said Revali.

“I’ve served as a warrior my entire life,” retorted Teba, the heavy realization that he must find his place in this world bearing down upon him. “I have no other skills.”

“I would be willing to instate you as captain of a flight group, given your advanced standing.”

“I served as First Warrior,” Teba pointed out.

Revali huffed a little noise of derision and Teba bristled.

Some of the veneration with which he had addressed the champion was beginning to wear away as he and Revali were left without common enemies to fight. The mythical reverence in which he had always held the legend of Master Revali had started to unravel the moment Revali was left without a clear aim. Revali had begrudgingly accepted that their homeland might be in need for protection from the monsters that still roamed the land, many still cruelly perverted by Ganon’s malice, though it was clear to Teba that he felt the order to return home to be insulting after serving in Central Hyrule.

“By your account, you served as First Warrior over a dozen warriors,” Revali said gratingly. “I have over one hundred at my command.”

Teba said nothing, unable to muster the energy to fight with such arrogance—and he named his dearest friend to be Harth.

“Still,” Revali mused, “your skills put to shame many of my captains, and should be rewarded. Perhaps upon taking the trial—”

“I’m not taking the trial,” Teba refused. “You can accept my skill for what you have seen on the battlefield—in _your_ defence—or you can allow me the peace of entering the ranks quietly and unnoticed.”

“I took you to be a warrior of some ambition.”

“Perhaps, once. Perhaps some day again.”

For now, Teba’s heart weighed to heavily on the memory of Saki’s shining blue eyes—the same colour that their son had inherited. When his mind wandered back to his home, he could barely do more than drift, buffeted by the mountain winds.

By the time they set down upon the new landing—the one to be named in the Rito Champion’s honour—darkness had fallen and the boardwalks were deserted.

“I trust you can find the inn,” Revali said, turning back out toward the Hebra mountains.

“And where are you going?” Teba asked.

“I granted you the courtesy of an escort to the Great Pillar, and now I’m returning home.”

Revali took off with his usual flourish, and glided toward that series of roosts built into the plateaus and foothills near Dronoc’s Pass. 

As Teba set out down the boardwalk—the roosts so unfamiliar in their layout and occupants—he could think only of what a bitter choice he had made. It was a proposal that had been made to his pride, his vanity, he realized. His world may have been scarred by the Calamity, but they had rebuilt. Revali may have met his end in Teba’s world, but what was an abstract hero’s death compared to losing everyone?

Revali might have been prickly, and Teba could see that it was unfair to doom him, but it was hardly any more fair that Teba’s world be scarified for his sake. Even weighed against the threat of Calamity Ganon, Teba struggled to reconcile the disappearance of everything he had ever known.

The inn did not much resemble the Swallow’s Roost. It was set up for Rito visitors rather than Hylians, and Teba wondered idly how far and wide their population spanned. The desk was attended by the owner, a Rito of ink-dark plumage and a short, broad beak. He held his tiny son in his wings as he showed Teba to an available hammock.

“I haven’t seen you in the village before,” said the innkeeper. “Have you come from Akkala?”

“Further even,” said Teba, trying his best not to be standoffish. “How many moons as you son seen?”

“Eight,” said the innkeeper, brushing the dove-grey down from the chick’s eyes. “Have you any children?”

“I think this hammock should serve me,” said Teba, his voice catching.

The innkeeper wisely took this as his dismissal, and returned to the stool behind the counter. As Teba settled into his hammock, he could not help but stare at how the dark-feathered innkeeper nuzzled his beak to his child’s crest. Teba’s heart ached to watch the simple gesture of fatherly affection, one he had so often seen Harth bestow upon Molli. One he bestowed upon Tulin each night as he bid him goodnight.

Teba wrapped himself in his wings and let his mind wander the path back home, much as it had since the bulk of the fighting had ceased. He would never again test new bows with Harth at the Flight Range, nor seek Kaneli’s advice, nor wrap Saki in his wings. He would never see Tulin grow up. They might as well exist only in his mind. Even Link was not his Link, and seemed to recognize him as nothing beyond a new ally.

As the cool winds blew through the rafters, it took all of Teba’s strength that night not to weep.

**Sidon**

The monsters still crept over their lands and Sidon made a point to go out with the Guard and beat them back. For all the pleasant time he spent with Mipha, there remained another. At first he had been delighted to meet his child-self, marvelling in how he could have once been so small, but his family had agreed not to scare the younger Sidon with explanations of where he had come from.

As the days wore on and Sidon saw what could have been, he grew to realize how much the memory of Mipha had shaped him, and not Mipha herself. Young Sidon seemed to know no misery, carelessly wandering through the world with Mipha chasing after him, ever his protector. That life was already so very different from his own.

Sidon remembered little of the Calamity, young as he was, but he remembered Mipha’s loss. He could not reconcile the sorrowful child who had stood on the pier at East Reservoir Lake, calling across the water to his sister in the darkened husk of Vah Ruta with the carefree giggles of this Mipha’s younger brother. 

For decades, Sidon dreamt he could rewrite history if only he had the strength to try. When his chance arrived, he had not hesitated to answer the call. Sidon could even abide the erasure of his entire world for the sake of Mipha. What he could not reconcile was his new place here: son of Dorephan, but not really; his older sister returned to him, but he had grown older than she; his fellow guards fighting by his side, not his peers, but ones he knew as embittered elders.

The daily exercise of joining the Guard to beat back the lizafos that encroached upon their land had given him some semblance of routine at least. His skill with the trident was unmatched, and it seemed that the monsters were intent on erasing them from their world with the same callousness that the Goddess had winked his world out of existence.

The afternoon sun glinted off of the rippling swamps as Seggin lashed out at the lizalfos with a maniacal cry, and Sidon found he wished only for the steady support of Bazz by his side. Truly, Bazz must had inherited his disposition from his mother.

“Well met!” Sidon called to the Demon Sergeant.

“Well done yourself, your Highness!” shouted Seggin. “Though you’d best watch out for the shock arrows!”

Sidon leapt from the water and onto the swampy mound, dodging the electric lizalfos that chattered and croaked in agitation before he cut them down.

When the swamp was cleared of those fell creatures, Sidon returned to the Domain with his fellow guards. Seggin plodded along by his side, straight-backed and well-armoured as Sidon could not recall ever having seen him in his world.

“You are an impressive fighter,” remarked Seggin. “Who trained you?”

“I was trained by many fine warriors in the guard,” said Sidon. “Including yourself.”

“Then I applaud my fine work.”

Sidon had taken up the spear within a year of Mipha’s death. His father had encouraged it as a means of focusing his energy on something he could master, but Sidon had vowed with every fibre of his being that it was only a means to return his sister to him. How fortunate that child had been blessed with such a streak of optimism, for the training had left him strong of arm and quick of fin in a way even the guards of his age were not.

Upon his return from the swamps, Sidon received word that he was to attend his father. As Sidon entered the throne room he was surprised to find Impa, treating with the king.

“Impa,” he said, his teeth bared in a grin. “How wonderful it is to see you once more!”

“Prince Sidon,” she said, her voice strong and unusually serious.

“Are you here on behalf of the Sheikah?”

“I come on behalf of the Crown,” replied Impa.

“Lady Impa brings tragic news of our representative in Castle Town. After such long years in service to the Domain, Etuva, our representative at court, has returned to the water.”

“How sad,” said Sidon.

“I had thought that you might replace her,” said Dorephan.

“Me?”

“Well it seems that you have had extensive contact with the Hylians and others in your travels,” said Dorephan, though he seemed to be holding something back.

“Certainly, Father. I will do my best to serve the Domain in whatever way that I may.”

Dorephan’s smile was a small crease by his eye. It was a private smile—the smile he reserved for his children when they had done him proud.

“Jora,” Dorephan signalled to the secretary, “please show Impa to her quarters. Sidon will set out with her tomorrow.”

“No need, your Majesty,” said Impa. “I am to return immediately upon receipt of this message.”

“Then go with our thanks,” said the King.

Jora politely escorted Impa down the stairs from the throne room, and Sidon half-wished that he, too, might follow after Impa. Her infectious cheer would have been a balm to him when he found his own cheer so diminished with the uncertainty of life here.

“Sidon,” said Dorephan when only the two remained.

“Yes, Father.”

“I’m concerned for your happiness here.”

“I’m happy, I assure you.”

Dorephan said nothing and just stared at his son.

“I have everything I’ve always wished for,” Sidon assured him.

“That is what concerns me,” sighed Dorephan. “Because it is either a lie—which is troubling, but entirely understandable in your circumstances—or it is the truth—which is something no one should be granted.”

This Dorephan was sharper than his own, Sidon realized. Perhaps the grief of losing his daughter and heir had left more profound a mark upon the man than Sidon could have ever appreciated. Perhaps his own father would have done anything in he power to grant him that wish.

“Perhaps it is merely somewhere in between,” Sidon amended.

“In any case, I wish for you to spend some time outside of the Domain to reacquaint yourself with the world. From what you have told me, the Hyrule of your day is a different place.”

How different, Sidon could barely put to words. He nodded up at Dorephan’s concerned gaze.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Father. I promise that I won’t disappoint you.”

“I’m certain you won’t.”

**Teba**

The moblins and bokoblins that moved through the mountains were of constant nuisance to Revali. He sent out parties daily to combat them, to push them back into their frozen hiding holes and hold the lines through Tabantha. Revali visited the lines often, observing his warriors as a general observed their troops. Teba quickly learned that under Revali’s leadership, things were far stricter than they had become in the time Teba had served.

Having refused to take the flight group captain’s trial, Teba was assigned a position in the ranks of regular warriors and sent out on daily flyovers through the Hebra range. He spoke little to his fellow warriors beyond what was warranted in the course of duty, and retired each night he was not assigned watch to a hammock in the common warriors roosts which dotted the Hebra foothills. 

As Teba hunted with the other warriors, he came to realize that though Revali was respected for his exceptional talent, he was not revered by those under his command. The captains obeyed his orders, but Teba had heard the undercurrents of disdain for their arrogant leader. 

Mired as he was in the horrible thought of those he loved being winked out of existence by his misguided desire for heroism, Teba remained stonily silent most of the time, and the other warriors were wary of him. Perhaps they thought him unstable, his frustration taken out relentlessly and mercilessly upon the monsters in the pass. Perhaps he was merely frightening in the callousness with which he dispatched his foes, each loosed arrow ripped from his own heart in shame. Likely, Teba thought, they must have simply found him a stranger. 

As the warriors stood gathered along the edge of the Flight Range basin—more there than Teba had ever seen at once—Revali stood on the landing, straight-backed and wing clasped behind his back as always. Teba suspected this was an effort he had ingrained in himself to make it appear that he was taller, though it was clear to Teba that he had been hatched a runt.

“And among the new captains, I appoint Harth,” called Revali.

Even knowing it couldn’t be his Harth, Teba’s eyes desperately searched to crowd for that dark plumage. Instead, Harth turned out to be tall, with plumage of sand and cream, and the tail feathers of pheasants woven into his crest as Rito warriors of renown were wont to do. Teba covered his eyes, that terrible void in his chest threatening to consume him.

“I also appoint Teba,” said Revali, his clear voice cutting through the rushing wind.

Teba lowered his wing to find the Rito warriors staring at him. Revali gazed down at him from the landing and Teba managed to nod his acceptance, though his chest still heaved with the terrible shock from a moment before.

Revali dismissed the warriors to their fly-overs, but Teba stayed behind and caught up with Revali on the landing.

“Take it back,” begged Teba.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” said Revali lightly. “You made such fuss over not taking the trial that I took the liberty of waiving it in your case.”

“I can’t,” said Teba.

“I’ve seen perfectly well what you’re capable of.”

“I mean that...I’m far too buried beneath this...sadness.”

Revali turned and made that dismissive noise of his, and Teba nearly thought to crack his beak. His wing balled in a fist, Teba drew in a shaky breath, stung by the dismissal of someone he had so admired.

“Perhaps no one has told you because they’re afraid of what you may do,” said Teba, his wing shaking. “Your skills are undeniable, your gift a blessing from the Goddess, and you have the mind of a tactician, but you lack the necessary qualities of a leader.”

“Is that so?” Revali very nearly laughed, but Teba could see that he’d struck a nerve. “It sounds as though the First Warriors of your time were too soft-hearted to contend with the persistence of the hordes which press upon our borders.”

“You’re young, so I might excuse your arrogance as ignorance, but every First Warrior I have known who mistook humility for weakness left their feathers well before their time. I hope you can see that error before it is too late for you.”

“I see I am regretting this decision.”

“You’ve nothing to regret,” said Teba. “I can’t live out my life in this _shadow_ of my home. I’m leaving for Castle Town.”

“To do what?” Revali scoffed, though Teba could see he was still trying to save face after the insult of Teba refusing him. “Teach _singing_?”

“I suppose I’ll find out.”

“You really want to go live among _Hylians_?”

“Yes,” said Teba grimly. “I suppose I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated<3


	3. The Rito on the Wall

**Sidon**

Sidon set out to Castle Town dressed in the plain armour of a the Zora Guard. Accompanying him as his personal guard was Trello. The captain’s fins upon Trello’s helm flashed in the sunlight as they passed through the construction in Goponga Village.

“It’s a pity that we couldn’t use the towers of the Sheikah to make our journey swifter,” Trello hinted, not for the first time.

“I’m afraid they’re for those direst of situations only,” said Sidon.

“So you say, though I’ve seen those Sheikah researchers abusing that.”

“They are the Sheikah’s towers,” Sidon pointed out.

“Seeing them there, I climbed up to investigate,” Trello confessed. “I had thought they were Hylians from the village, and I worried for their safety.”

“A noble act,” agreed Sidon.

“They told me they were working on—of all things—time travel.”

“Time travel?” asked Sidon.

“But they are both as mad as sea cucumbers.”

“Hm,” Sidon mused.

The journey was quiet, save for a nest of lizalfos which they stumbled upon and quickly remedied. They stayed a night at a half-destroyed stable along the way, overpaying for their meagre meals and beds, and arrived in Castle Town in the late afternoon.

Sidon had only ever seen the place in ruin. In his time, it was a graveyard where only the most foolish dared to tread. As he had fought alongside the Champions, he had seen the town, burning and covered in malice, and empty (save for the bodies that he never could seem to will from his mind). Scarcely four moons had passed since the Calamity, and rebuilding had commenced.

Though many old stone houses had been destroyed, new ones were already springing up to replace them, gleaming with hastily erected lime-washed walls and freshly thatched roofs. By Sidon’s eye, they did not appear quite so sturdy as the ones that had been built before the Calamity, but the chill of the season was in the air, and the world was full of displaced people.

By the time that Sidon and Trello arrived at Varo House—the traditional residence of Zora delegates living in the capital—it was the hour in which the stalls in the markets closed up for the evening, and merchants and craftsfolk returned home to sup. The broken cobbles of the streets were nearly empty, save for a few of the City Guard on their rounds and some undernourished pigeons. 

Just as at the stable where they had stayed the night before, times were lean in Castle Town as well. Sidon saw the grim set of Trello’s mouth as he surveyed the desolate emptiness of the town, the sun’s last rays painting the buildings pink and orange.

“Is this your first time here?” Sidon asked him.

“No,” said Trello. “I was posted as a guard at Varo House when I first wielded the spear. Even at this hour it would be full of life.”

“It is rather ominous, isn’t it?”

“Come, you Highness,” said Trello, gesturing to where they would stay. “These empty streets leave me uneasy.”

Varo House would have been a remarkable structure before the Calamity. Its graceful pillars of blue-veined marble had once stood tall to welcome visitors, but now lay crumbled and broken upon the cobbles, those few remaining stumps like cracked teeth jutting up from the ground. The dome atop the round structure had taken its cues from the traditional Zora styles of the Domain, but it too had seen better days.

As Sidon ascended the sloped path to the entrance, he found that little had been done in terms of repairs, though an apprentice builder worked diligently upon the damaged staircase. Seeing Sidon he stood up straight, his eyes wide.

“Prince Sidon!” stammered the apprentice. “I was told we would have more time.”

“Ledo, stand down before you injure yourself,” advised Trello. “So long as there is a pool for us to rest...”

“Zito has been working on the pool, but there is still much to do.”

“We’ll assist any way we can,” Sidon assured Ledo.

Ledo offered a quick nod before he retreated to the next room through an archway behind the staircase, calling the master craftsman’s name, the echo of his feet slapping the polished stone floor reverberating in the grand entrance.

“Quarters are up this way,” said Trello, picking his way up the damaged staircase.

Sidon followed carefully after him. The second level was more modest, built for Zora and guests of the Zora to stay the night. There were about a dozen sets of quarters, though Trello ushered Sidon to one of the larger.

“Were these Etuva’s rooms?” asked Sidon as he set down his pack on a dust covered hardwood chair behind a matching desk.

The style of the furnishings was distinctly Hylian, and Sidon suspected that was in an effort both to assimilate while in Castle Town as well as to accommodate Hylian partners of delegates. From what Trello had told him, some Zora regarded Castle Town as a pit of sin where Zora were tempted into love with Hylians and all manner of people. Sidon found the hypocrisy of it all laughable, as Zora had seemingly lured quite a few Hylians into their loving embrace in the Domain as well.

“The view of the garden is not as it once was,” said Trello, stepping out onto the rounded balcony where the stone railing had crumbled to the ground below.

Seeing the white sheet that covered the over-long bed, Sidon supposed these quarters must not have been in use since before the Calamity. He pulled aside the protective sheet, stirring up clouds of dust, and froze at the sight of the Hylian quilt that was spread over the bed. For some reason the sight of it—the _quaintness_ of it—nearly brought him to tears.

“Trello, who lived in these quarters?” Sidon called out to the balcony.

“Oh,” said Trello, staring at the bed. “Perhaps Etuva’s husband left this.”

“Can we return it to him?”

“He returned to the waters some forty years ago. I’ve heard Etuva never loved again.”

“How sad,” Sidon remarked solemnly.

As it was, the pool was not yet repaired, and Sidon was left with little choice but to sleep on the extra-long Hylian style bed in his quarters. Though, he carefully folded the quilt—that relic of the lives of others—and put it away in the wardrobe.

**Teba**

“What would a Rito want from a career in the City Guard?” the captain of the guard asked across the rough wooden desk.

“What does it matter what I want if I serve with strength and honour?” remarked Teba.

“We like to know the character of the guards in our service.”

“Hm,” Teba grumbled.

“You’re a Rito warrior, you say you fought alongside the princess and her knight. You could do anything you wish, and the City Guard is a humble outfit.”

“You say I may do anything I wish and yet you prevent me from joining your ranks.”

“I only want to understand why you would bother with such a thing. The Rito have long isolated themselves from Hyrule, rejected the rule of the Royal Family and refused to bend the knee...though perhaps in your case they bend the wrong way.”

“A Hylian misbelief,” said Teba darkly.

“When a Rito shows up with such a request, you must understand our immediate suspicions,” said the captain.

“Certainly,” agreed Teba. “Though if you will simply ask your superiors who I am—”

“My superiors?”

“Ask Link for Hylia’s sake!” snapped Teba.

“What will knowing who you are provide us? We know very well who the Champion Revali is, and his views on the overreach of the capital are well-known.”

“I am _not_ Revali. I came from a time and place where there is no memory of the rule of the Crown, and I have lived my life in neither allegiance nor disdain.”

“I’ll consider your application,” conceded the captain with another wary look in Teba’s direction. “We’ll send word to your lodging—”

“I’ll return tomorrow,” said Teba sharply, not wanting to reveal that he hadn’t the resources to secure lodging.

“Very well,” sighed the captain, dismissing Teba from his office with a wave.

Teba left the safety of the city walls for the night and strung his hammock in the sturdy branches of what remained of one of the forests east of the city. He was certain that had he approached the castle, he would not be turned away, but he wished to go unnoticed for as long as he may. 

It remained dangerous on the road and outside of the established settlements which still stood, but Teba rarely slept through the night as it was. As the cool wind howled through the trees, Teba let it rock him to sleep in the swaying branches. 

Within what felt like moments of falling asleep, he awoke from a dream that was heartbreaking for how mundane it was. As the sleep cleared from his mind, he realized that the sound he had dreamt to be Tulin’s gleeful laugh as he was buffeted in the winds of the Flight Range, was instead the porcine squeal of a bokoblin. 

Shifting to his side to get a better look, Teba could see the beasts huddled around their campfire—four of them with rust-coloured pelts—roasting a spit of meat that looked fairly suspect. His wing closed around the familiar comfort of his falcon bow (but now was not the time to be thinking of Harth!) and he leapt from his hammock, three arrows between his fingers and nocked in a flash.

The fight was over before the bokoblins had even moved to defend themselves, the last one falling to Teba’s feathered edge as his talons touched ground. Teba sat down on the debarked log and wiped the blood from his blade before he cut off a bit of the roast above the fire. Given the scarcity of resources, he saw no point in letting it go to waste.

**Sidon**

Sidon’s duties took him regularly to the castle to meet with the king. There, he was often invited by Princess Zelda to see the latest of her discoveries, and he smiled and encouraged her to keep at it, though he had to admit that he was fairly clueless about Sheikah technology. On occasion he sparred with Link and Impa in the training grounds to keep up his skills. Mostly, Sidon spent his time helping to restore Varo House.

Sidon was no builder, it was true, but he was strong of arm and helped to remove a great deal of the debris that could not be restored. As winter began to let up, he hired a Hylian gardener from the discretionary funds. Though it would never quite be fully restored, the building began to once more look like a place where the delegates of the Zora could wield their power in the courts of Hyrule.

Sidon sat in his chambers late one evening, finishing a missive to be delivered to his father with King Rhoam’s visions of Hyrule’s restoration. Folding the paper and setting it upon his desk, Sidon stepped out onto the balcony—still missing a large portion of railing—and stared as far as he could see in the moonlight.

Varo House was not so far from the castle wall which had been restored along the eastern edge of the city. The flames were lit on the ramparts and soldiers strolled along on their nightly watches. Sidon squinted out to the wall at a shadow that was certainly not Hylian. Sidon could have sworn the figure was _Rito_ and familiar at that. 

Though for the distance, Sidon was not quite sure, but the Rito on the wall seemed taller than most he had met on the field of battle. If he was not so certain that Teba had left with Revali, he would have sworn that the figure was the ivory-feathered warrior himself!

Sidon rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes and dismissed the figure, wondering if that was indeed what he had seen when the silhouette disappeared into one of the watch towers. Perhaps it was the late hour, Sidon thought as he left his quarters for the pool where Trello, the builders, and one of the new guards already slept. 

Sidon slipped into the cool water, breathing through his gills as he let his head slip beneath the surface. Even with the water pressing around him, Sidon thought only of the figure on the wall. His mind had not wandered to Teba for over a moon’s turn, but as always, Sidon prayed that time had granted him solace.

**Teba**

Teba had made it into the City Guard with less trouble than he had anticipated. He had been put through the half-moon’s training and joined the lower ranks of the Guard soon after. It became immediately obvious that they found Teba’s flying to be an asset, as he was often posted to the walls to watch out beyond the borders of civilization.

For all his flying seemed to be appreciated, his being a Rito was in itself a problem for some of the guards. Teba knew the fissures that existed between Hylians and Rito in his time tended mostly to come from the Rito’s isolationist tenancies. The relationship between the two peoples here seemed infinitely more complicated, and Teba was not entirely certain how to navigate the suspicions of his fellow guards.

Mostly, he just kept to himself.

The barracks offered a place for him to hang his hammock, but the warmth of comradeship he had once felt among his fellow warriors was nowhere to be found. Teba wondered if that was perhaps for the better, as he spent most of his free time trying to find something to occupy his grieving mind. Sometimes he spent hours at the archery range, sometimes he took on his fellow soldiers in hand-to-hand combat, though he became painfully aware of how his skills in that area were in need of some fine-tuning. Mostly, he saw to his duties and retired to his hammock to dream of home.

One evening he was set on patrol through East Castle Town near Hyrule Cathedral. By the buildings that remained, it was evident that before the Calamity, it had been a seat of great wealth and power. Now it was as empty as the rest of the city seemed to be. As Teba roamed the streets with his watch partner, he was startled to hear a familiar voice.

“Teba!” 

At the sound of his name echoing across the damaged cobbles, Teba turned to see—of all people—Sidon. The Zora prince waved, and Teba excused himself momentarily to meet him by the broken fountain in the square.

“How good it is to see you, my friend!” said Sidon with his usual exuberance.

“And you,” said Teba, though Sidon’s enthusiasm grated upon him.

“You wear the crest of the Hylian Guard,” Sidon remarked, glancing down at the black-leather cuirass, inlaid with a steel plate that bore the arms of the Hyrulean Royal Family.

“I’m posted to the City Guard,” Teba explained shortly.

“I didn’t realize the Rito had sent soldiers,” Sidon remarked. “Nyva has said nothing—”

“I’m not here on behalf of the Rito,” Teba interrupted. “I joined of my own accord.”

“Teba,” called his fellow guard, Karro.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” Teba said, relieved to have an excuse to leave Sidon’s irrational warmth.

“Please, I would enjoy your company when you’ve finished your watch,” said Sidon. “You can find me at Varo House.”

“I won’t be finished until sundown,” Teba evaded.

“Sundown is an excellent time! I shall see you then!”

And before Teba was able to extricate himself from the commitment, Sidon had retreated back down the street and left Teba standing aghast.

“You might consider it,” said Karro, suddenly at his side.

Teba glanced down and the morose guard, his face as utterly serious as it always seemed to be.

“And why is that?” Teba asked as they resumed their round.

“You know that guy’s a prince, right?”

“I was aware,” Teba said, his breath leaving him in a sharp huff. Perhaps Teba was not so well-known as he thought.

“Means you’ll get a good meal, good bit of drink too if you’re lucky. I hear the Zora have a marshberry wine that could melt your soul.”

“Perhaps you should meet him,” said Teba darkly.

“Would that I could! But that man’s only interest is in you. Hope you like fish.”

“I beg your pardon?” Teba snapped.

“For dinner!” Karro clarified defensively. “By the Goddess, you Rito are a prickly lot.”

For Teba, sunset came too soon. He took his time filling out his reports and leaving the garrison, and half-considered simply not showing up to meet Sidon. Perhaps he could send a messenger saying he was ill, though Teba wondered if Sidon might have one of his staff show up at the barracks for him. In the end, Teba decided that the meeting was unavoidable, and he would do his best to put off any future meetings for as long as he could. 

Resigned to his fate, Teba crossed East Town, the broken fountain at the centre of it dark but for the moonlight and the few lamps that remained standing. Beyond, the cathedral stood dark against the sky, the scaffolding around it seemingly holding the fragile masonry together. The world was in repair, he thought, though the scars seemed not nearly so deep as those in his world. He stopped that line of thought right there; best not to follow it when he was to meet with Sidon.

Teba stopped in front of Varo House, the marble columns at the front of the building, broken, as if relics from another age. He wondered idly if they would be restored or if they would simply remain as they were, preserved as a testament to the chaos and horror they had witnessed. Scaffolding scaled around the side of this damaged building as well, though Teba could see where building had recommenced, the new stone not quite matching the shade of the old even in the dim lamplight.

“My friend,” Sidon greeted him warmly, descending the cracked slope from the building to the street.

“Sidon,” Teba nodded, shying away from the contact of the heavy hand on his wing, and Sidon politely withdrew.

“Come, I’m sure there is a great deal we have to talk about!”

Teba doubted that Sidon would find the daily routines of the City Guard to be of any interest, and archery perhaps of even less. Nevertheless, Teba followed Sidon into the building, the splash of running water echoing through the entry hall, though Teba could see no source of the sound.

“The architecture is a blend of Zora and Hylian crafts,” Sidon explained as they ascended the cracked stairs. “When I arrived nearly a moon’s turn ago, there was a great deal more destruction, but we’ve worked to restore as much of the building as we can.”

“I see,” said Teba, trying his best to feign polite interest when what he truly wanted was to stretch out in his hammock and let his mind wander through those howling, dark stretches that seemed to have taken it over.

Sidon invited him to sit at a small table where there was a spread of Hylian and Zora cold dishes. As Teba took in his surroundings he was surprised by the large Hylian-style bed in the corner of the room; Teba had only ever known Zora to sleep in the water.

“Had many guests around?” Teba asked dryly.

“Only you,” said Sidon brightly, perhaps not catching the implication. “Tell me how you’ve ended up serving here.”

“Soldiers were needed.”

“But did you not wish to return to your homeland? I’ve heard that the Tabantha Frontier is nearly overrun with monsters.”

“You like to cut straight to the heart of it, don’t you?” Teba asked bitterly.

“We’ve shared in battle, why is it so difficult for you to share in this?” Sidon asked, his voice still even and pleasant.

“I’ve met people like you, Sidon,” said Teba defensively. “You don’t really want to know where I’ve been and what I’ve felt. You only wish to hear of the merriment, the adventure.”

“Perhaps my intentions have been lost in the pleasantries,” Sidon apologized. “So let me explain. I sought out your company in hopes of finding understanding. Understanding of what we have been through and what we have left behind. I fear I would not find that with anyone else.”

Taken aback by Sidon’s directness, Teba opened and closed his beak, unsure of how he might respond to such a confession of vulnerability. This was too much to ask of him, Teba thought, too close to those raw wounds of loss that seemed always to weep at the edges of his mind. Teba’s body buzzed with anxiety as he stood, the chair scraping sharply on the stone floor.

“I can’t do this,” said Teba, his voice rough with pain. 

“My friend, don’t go,” Sidon protested, standing in a fluid motion.

“Please, don’t call upon me again,” Teba told him harshly as he fled to the balcony.

Not caring about the consequences of being seen fleeing from Sidon’s quarters in such a manner, Teba leapt from the gap in the broken railing and took flight back to the barracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the positive response this fic has received so far! Your comments and kudos have really kept me typing away at this improbable pairing <3


	4. False Hope

**Sidon**

“Brother!” called Mipha, her amber eyes alight as she crossed the entrance hall of Varo House.

Sidon leaned forward as Mipha reached up to hold his face between her tiny hands. Seeing her in this blissful moment, he forgot about the worries that had troubled his mind and took her hands in his. The shadow that had hung about him in Zora’s Domain—that tiny reflection of himself—was not here and he once more had his sister to himself. He immediately felt guilty for his moment of jealousy.

“Let me show you the progress we’ve made,” said Teba, leading Mipha up the repaired stone staircase.

The stone stairs showed the line where the marble was a slightly different colour, repaired with silver grout to commemorate the damage. Zito had suggested this after speaking to some of the architects who worked on the nearby cathedral. It was a common-enough practise among Hylian builders, especially when stone was in too short supply to rebuild entire sections of building.

Mipha and Sidon entered his chambers. As they stepped out onto the balcony, Mipha glanced at the squares of animal skin that had been stretched to cover the empty window squares. The railing on Sidon’s balcony remained broken, though Mipha mentioned nothing of the work that was yet to be done as she peered out into the spring-damp gardens.

“You’ve done well, Sidon,” she said and his heart leapt to hear her say so.

“Thank you,” he said, unable to hide his smile, desperate for her approval.

“Are you prepared for this evening?” Mipha asked, turning to face him.

“I’m looking forward to meeting with everyone once more,” Sidon told her.

Sidon was eager to see if Teba would attend, desperate as he was to mend the wound between them. He had honoured Teba’s request to stay away, but sometimes Sidon’s thoughts would wander to the heartbroken warrior when he bobbed beneath the gentle waves of the resting pool at night. Sidon was certain he had never before thought of anyone so frequently. Perhaps not even Bazz.

“Have you been in contact with the other Champions?” Sidon asked as he and Mipha stepped into his quarters from the balcony.

“I have,” she said, and Sidon could have sworn that a gentle blush coloured her cheeks.

“Link?” Sidon asked.

“No,” said Mipha, a hint of wistfulness still remaining in her voice. “Not Link.”

Sidon was so often torn between the memory of Link in his own time—a blank-slate, wildly destructive, but honourable above all else—whom Sidon had always assumed to have loved Mipha as dearly as she had him. It was difficult to reconcile that vision of him with the Link he had fought alongside during the Calamity—a closed-book, of impeccable skill, yet as honour-bound to his duties as ever.

“Will it not be difficult to see him again?” Sidon asked quietly.

“We’re adults, Sidon.”

It wasn’t an answer, but Sidon knew the topic had closed.

“I’ve heard the Rito diplomatic residence was destroyed in the Calamity,” Mipha said.

“It was,” confirmed Sidon, wondering what had prompted such an abrupt change in topic. “There has been no effort to rebuild.”

“I had thought—in the interest of diplomacy—we might invite the Rito delegation to stay at Varo House.”

“It would do our peoples well to forge a stronger bond,” agreed Sidon, his mind straying once more to Teba.

“Yes,” agreed Mipha, that elusive smile once more upon her lips. “I believe it would.”

**Teba**

“I didn’t think they’d made you a dress uniform,” Karro commented as Teba straightened the altered uniform. “Particularly seeing how you don’t wear sleeves...or trousers...”

“Hylians wear far too much clothing,” Teba pointed out. “Though I suppose you need to protect your... _pink bits_.”

“Is that what you’re calling them?” Karro asked, the nearest thing to a laugh in his voice that Teba had ever heard.

Karro held out the uniform beret to him and Teba couldn’t repress the scowl that crossed his face at the ludicrous accessory.

“I’m not wearing the cap,” insisted Teba.

“You have to wear the cap; it’s a part of the uniform.”

“Rito don’t wear uniforms.”

“When in Gerudo Town, Teba. What are you up to anyway? Meeting that Zora prince again?”

“No,” Teba grumbled shortly.

Karro was often curious about what Teba might be up to, though it was rarely anything more than a flight out over Central Hyrule and the occasional urgent message delivered to another garrison. He grated on Teba, but the other guards rarely spoke to him at all.

“Here,” said Karro, tilting the beret on Teba’s head ever so slightly.

“This will fall off,” Teba complained.

“No it won’t.”

“Well, perhaps I’ll see you later,” Teba bid Karro.

“Even a prince will take to you in such a fine cap,” Karro teased. “I won’t wait up.”

Unable to put it off any longer, Teba left the barracks and headed through the streets he had come to know on foot. He had thought to refuse the invite—he dreaded to see Revali again after their rough parting—but his captain had insisted that he was not to dishonour the guards by refusing an invitation from the castle. 

Invitation in hand, Teba had no difficulty gaining admittance to the castle grounds in spite of his humble uniform. How peculiar it was, he thought, that he should now have to observe such formalities when last he flew the castle grounds it was amidst broken masonry and tangles of malice. Some nights he awoke, still tasting the memory of the acrid blood of bokoblins in the air.

Teba was ushered to a hall, hung in gold and crimson, where his fellow Champions—well-met in their fine clothes—were already gathered with small contingents from their home regions. Revali and the Rito contingent had not yet arrived, and Teba hoped desperately that he would not be joining them.

“Teba,” greeted Daruk with a hearty back slap that rearranged Teba’s organs. “Good to see you’re well.”

“And you,” wheezed Teba, though he felt anything but.

Daruk waved to Urbosa across the room and set out to meet her as Riju approached Teba.

“I hear we’re to receive important news this evening,” Riju told him.

Teba merely nodded as she smiled, her painted lips revealing a hint of her teeth.

“Are you well, Teba?”

“Yes,” Teba lied—he knew enough of Hylians and Gerudo to know this was their way. “I hope you are settling in.”

“Have you heard? Urbosa has named me her heir,” said Riju brightly. “I’m learning the arts of war and diplomacy under her guidance.”

“I’m pleased for you,” said Teba standoffishly, unsure of how to handle her youthful exuberance.

“I do miss Buliara...she will blame herself for my disappearance.”

As her face fell, Teba didn’t have the heart to tell her that Buliara—whoever that was—probably neither existed, nor missed her. The reminder that everything was gone crept upon him as it had not in nearly a moon’s turn, its icy fingers of clenched around his heart once more.

Riju continued to chat away to Teba, and he looked desperately for an excuse to leave. For all her good manners, Riju did not seem to notice his discomfort. It felt like a life-age of uncomfortable feigned interest in sand-seals by the time Revali made his presence known. 

The Rito Champion was flanked by two Rito captains, taller even than Teba, though Revali’s puffed chest and confident stride made up for what he lacked in height. As he settled into the room, Revali spoke only to Mipha and only when she approached him first; Teba had heard relations between the Rito and the Crown were quickly souring.

As he spoke to Mipha, Revali glanced around the room. For a moment, Teba thought Revali’s gaze had landed upon him, but Revali acknowledged him not at all. As he returned his attention to Mipha at the touch of her delicate hand on his wing, Teba swore he could see betrayal in Revali’s sharp eyes as they darted back to him.

So that was it, thought Teba; he had been cast out by the Rito for his choice to serve among Hylians. Overwhelmed by the suddenly unbreathable air in the opulent room, Teba made for the heavy oak doors and fled. He passed the guards outside, beret clenched in his wing as he made his way down the corridor, his talons catching in the carpet with each step.

“Teba, my friend!” came a voice, that halted him in his tracks.

Goddess, not him.

“I wish to be alone, Sidon,” Teba said.

“The Princess will arrive any moment. You must spare her feelings by being in attendance.”

“And yet, no one wishes to spare my feelings,” lamented Teba.

Sidon took his wing, and Teba’s insides curled in on themselves at the excruciating tenderness of the gesture.

“You’re hurting,” Sidon observed, his tone as unbearably gentle as his touch.

“No,” Teba tried to deny it.

“You’ve lost everything you’ve ever known and you’ve been publicly snubbed by your countrymen.”

“I can’t speak of this,” Teba said in scarcely more than a whisper, so dangerously close to his pain had Sidon wandered.

“Please,” said Sidon. “Return with me. If you stand by my side I will manage those who would wish to speak to you.”

“What?” Teba scoffed.

“I know that you are unfamiliar with such courtly custom. I have spent my life in it.”

“Is this to say you’ll protect me from small-talk?” Teba asked.

“If need be,” agreed Sidon. “Come. You can do this.”

Teba exhaled harshly, dreading to return to that stifling room, but Sidon’s scaled hand moved from Teba’s wing to his shoulder to encourage him onward. With a deep breath, Teba reluctantly turned to head back to the gathering, Sidon’s hand dropping from his shoulder as they reached to door.

Apprehensive that someone might bring up his sudden disappearance, Teba remained near Sidon as they found a place to stand. The whole thing felt farcical to Teba, standing about, eating tiny food off of fancy platters, waiting for something to happen. As much as he had felt safe fighting side by side with those who ate and drank around the room, with no battles ahead, Teba was at a loss for what to say to them.

“Teba! I was concerned you wouldn’t join us,” came Zelda’s voice as she made her way from Urbosa’s side to Teba and Sidon.

“Begging your pardon,” said Teba, trying his best to emulate the manners he had seen among Hylians, “but why?”

“Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I was told that your response was not received. I’m certain it must be our error.”

“Oh...” said Teba. He hadn’t realized he was supposed to respond.

“No matter, you’re here now,” she smiled. “I hear you have joined the City Guard. I may have a proposition for you.”

Teba glanced desperately at Sidon.

“Your Highness,” smiled Sidon. “It appears your father has arrived.”

“Thank you Prince Sidon,” she said generously, turning to join her father where he stood with the Sheikah researchers.

Teba relaxed a little as she left, exhaling in relief.

“Perhaps you ought to listen to her proposal,” Sidon suggested.

“I am appreciative for your intervention,” Teba said under his breath. “But don’t take that to mean that I am in need of your guidance.”

“Of course, my friend,” said Sidon, not a hint of offence in his tone. It rankled Teba.

“My friends,” Zelda addressed the group. “I am honoured that you could all make it this evening. While I am pleased that we could be reunited once more, I have called you here with a further purpose. For this, I turn to Purah and Robbie of the Royal Ancient Research Laboratories.”

“Teba, Sidon, Riju and Yunobo,” Purah addressed the group. “When we learned of your plight, trapped in a time that was not your own, we turned to the technology of the ancients to search for a solution.”

“Time travel indeed...” whispered Sidon in wonder.

“What?” Teba hissed at him, but Sidon didn’t respond.

“We have begun conducting experimentation and we have concluded that...time travel could be possible under the right conditions,” said Robbie, turning his wrist over and over as he spoke.

“This is no guarantee, of course,” Purah cut in, “but our experiments have given us hope.”

Cautious though he tried to be, Teba’s heart soared at this news. The possibility of once more being with his family and friends reignited that terrible yearning in Teba’s heart. How badly his wished to feel their wings around him, to hold them in turn.

“How do you know they worked?” asked Revali, his expression skeptical.

“So far, our only successful attempt has been to send a half-sandwich half a day back in time,” said Purah.

“How did you know that it was successful?”asked Urbosa, her expression hovering somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

“A sandwich manifested on my workbench, which I then gratefully ate, and continued my work on time travel. Several hours later, the same sandwich was delivered to me and I accidentally send half of it back to my past self while tinkering with the device,” Robbie explained proudly.

“No offence,” said Revali with full offence, “but that’s hardly proof.”

“It’s a start,” said Zelda encouragingly, glancing from Teba and Sidon to Riju and Yunobo. “There is hope that we might get you home.”

“There is a catch,” acknowledged Purah, her nose scrunched. “Theoretically, it can only go backward and forward in time.”

“What’s the catch?” asked Daruk. “Don’t we want to everyone travel forward to their own time?”

“Our friends have joined us from a timeline that existed a century after Ganon succeeded in bringing about the Calamity—a timeline where we lost,” Purah explained.

“We wouldn’t be going back home,” Sidon realized aloud. “We would only be travelling forward.”

Teba’s heart sank, and he admonished himself for letting himself be dragged into such fancies. The Goddess—heartless harridan that she was—had already told them as much.

“There’s even the possibility that you might find different versions of yourselves there,” admitted Robbie.

“Why bring us this false hope?” asked Riju, her impeccable manners failing for the first time that Teba had seen.

“Hope is hope,” said Zelda, as a round of murmurs filled the room. “We mustn't give that up.”

This wasn’t hope, Teba wanted to shout at them. This was a carrot dangled before a mule, this was an illusion of progress. Teba would have fled again but for Sidon’s hand that had subtly crept to the inside of his wing to hold him in place. In his despair, Teba curled his hand around Sidon’s, praying he wouldn’t break down and weep in front of the others.

The evening went on, but most of the delight of seeing one another again seemed to have gone out of the room. Teba stuck by Sidon, though he was unsure why he didn’t simply leave as the princess approached him once more.

“Teba, about my proposal...”

Teba nodded, urging her to get it over with.

“I had hoped that you might be inclined to join the Royal Guard.”

“The Royal Guard?” asked Teba, and he could see Revali staring from where he stood with Mipha and Urbosa.

“Surely you must want something more. Your service has been exemplary, and there are few warriors so talented with a bow in our ranks.”

“I’ll consider it,” said Teba as politely as he could.

“Send word, you’ll be promoted immediately and without question,” she assured him.

“Hm.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” amended Sidon.

“Of course,” smiled Zelda as she returned to speak to Impa and Riju.

“I wish to leave,” Teba told Sidon beneath his breath.

“Soon,” Sidon assured him as Mipha and Revali approached.

“Brother, Teba,” Mipha greeted them sweetly, small smile on her lips.

“Master Revali,” said Sidon politely.

“Hm,” said Revali.

“I’ve invited Revali and the members of the Rito delegation back to Varo House in light of destruction of their residences,” she told them. “Teba, you are of course welcome to join us.”

“Actually—”

“I’m sure Teba would be happy to join us,” said Sidon, cutting across Teba.

Revali’s eyes glinted, and Teba could not tell whether it was from enjoyment of his struggle with Sidon or merely a manifestation of his usual arrogance. Sidon hurried Teba through the niceties of goodbyes as the evening began to wind down, and together they walked back toward Varo House, Teba’s beret tucked into his belt.

The streets were dark and empty, so many of the lamps still unfit to be lit, even in the wealth of the diplomatic quarter of the city. Teba could hear Revali’s voice on the air as spoke to Mipha, though they remained behind them. Hearing that voice once more made Teba certain he would hate what was to come next.

“I’d much rather return to the barracks,” Teba told Sidon.

“Then let me escort you,” Sidon offered.

“On second thought,” said Teba flatly, imagining the ribbing he would endure for returning with a Zora Prince at his side, “Varo House is fine.”

“I’m pleased you’ll be joining us,” Sidon smiled, and Teba had to wonder if that had been his plan all along.

Varo House was a more subdued affair than the gathering at the castle had been, yet Teba remained uneasy. The tall captain with sandy plumage— _Harth_ , Teba remembered with a twinge in his chest—approached him.

“So it’s true,” Harth said, his voice low and suspicious. “You serve the Hylians.”

“I serve the city,” Teba said, his tone equally dark.

“Surely you know what they’ve done to us? How they take over our lands, cut down our forests, relegate us to the corners of the continent they dare not inhabit.”

Teba said nothing as he quietly scanned the gathered Zora and Rito, wishing that Sidon would catch his eye and rescue him from this once more.

“This isn’t my problem,” Teba finally said, bluntly escaping the conversation and retreating to the second floor.

He should have just left, Teba reflected as he wandered the empty halls on the level of the living and office quarters. The click of talons on stone set Teba’s heart racing, and he turned to find he had been followed by none other than Revali.

“So you’re enjoying this?” Revali said.

“Enjoying what?” Teba groused, having sincerely enjoyed nothing in these past moons.

“Enjoying the privileges and offerings of Castle Town.”

“Can’t complain.”

“And in lieu of nothing you’re offered a place in the Royal Guard. I wonder why that is?” Revali said as though he had a theory.

“It sounds as though you’re about to tell me.”

“It’s all for appearances. Don’t you see that you’re their token Rito?”

“I sincerely can’t tell whether you’re angry or jealous.”

“ _Tkh_. If you do accept this, you may find yourself in a complicated position with the Rito.”

“I’m afraid I already do,” said Teba. “Rito Village is not my home, and it’s been made clear that I won’t be made welcome there.”

“And this is where you find welcome?” Revali asked, sweeping his wing theatrically.

“It seems that you, too, find welcome among the Zora.”

“I’m here in the interest of an alliance,” Revali told him.

“I doubt you shall find it among the Zora,” said Teba, glancing down through the railings around the staircases to see Mipha emerging from the gathering. “Unless it’s an alliance by marriage.”

Caught off guard, Revali choked on his words, the feathers on his neck slightly raised. A fascinating development, Teba thought.

“I’ll say nothing about this,” bargained Teba. “In exchange...don’t count me among the Rito.”

“You truly wish to forsake your countrymen?” Revali asked in dismay. “You can return, I will reinstate you as captain and you can put all of this behind you.”

Though usually dripping in ire, Revali’s words seemed sincere. Revali’s expression softened for but a moment in the nearest thing to empathy Teba had seen in him. Teba wavered in his convictions, wishing desperately that he could accept, before he recalled the spirits of that place, an echo of his lost home.

“It’s generous of you, but I’ve told you that your village brings me nothing but pain,” said Teba hollowly.

“Fine.”

The sharpness had returned to his tone with Teba’s rejection of his offer, and Revali retreated toward the stairs.

“Revali,” Teba sighed.

“It’s alright, Teba. You’ve made your decision.”

Surprised that he even had the capacity to be stung once more by Revali, Teba retreated through the upper level. The door to Sidon’s quarters remained open, the moonlight spilling in through the few undamaged window panes that had not been covered by animal skin while they awaited replacement. 

Thinking to flee, Teba made for the balcony as he had the last time he sought escape from this place, but as he reached the thick, stone railing around the balcony he hesitated. Exhausted from the niceties of the evening and smarting from Revali’s rejection, Teba perched on the broken railing, his wings wrapped around him as he stared out at the empty garden.

**Sidon**

The Rito and Zora had settled for the night in their rooms or the communal pool when Sidon returned in search of extra bed linens. The cool breeze from the open balcony door gave Sidon pause, and he nearly dropped the blankets in surprise. A figure perched on his balcony, the moon glinting from his snowy feathers.

Sidon placed the sheets on the desk where his stationary sat neatly in the middle, awaiting his report to his father. Fearing to frighten his unexpected visitor, Sidon approached Teba carefully, stepping quietly onto the balcony.

He stood in silence for a moment, listening to the chirping of the frogs in the garden pond, unsure what to say. Though he did not turn, Teba’s deep sigh suggested that he was aware of Sidon’s presence.

“The hour is late, though I’m pleased that you did not leave without saying goodbye,” said Sidon finally. 

“I didn’t wish to return to the barracks,” Teba said, his eyes fixed on the city wall beyond.

“You’re always welcome to stay,” Sidon offered. “You can even sleep inside if it suits you.”

“Are you teasing me?” Teba asked humourlessly.

“My offer is sincere.”

Teba sighed a quivering breath and dug at his wing with his beak, nipping a stray covert into place. Carefully, Sidon held a hand out to Teba, recalling the desperation with which he had gripped it in his wing as they stood in the castle chambers earlier that evening. Teba did not take up the offer this time, though he lit from the railing and allowed Sidon to usher him inside.

“I’m afraid all of the other beds have been taken for the night, but you are welcome to mine,” Sidon offered.

“Will I be forced to share?” Teba asked.

“I sleep in the pool downstairs.”

“A joke, Sidon...though perhaps poorly timed and badly said.”

“I apologize.”

“You’ve no reason to,” sighed Teba. “I fear this evening has left my insides bruised.”

As the hard expression wavered, Teba sat down on the edge of the bed and held his head. Sidon crouched before him, gently gripping the well-muscled shoulders. 

The Zora were an emotional people, given to open displays of grief and pain, but Sidon was coming to learn that the Rito were quite different, far more reserved. He found himself at a loss as he watched Teba lower his wings and tamp down that pain that still marred his face.

“Teba, let me help you,” Sidon offered, his hands drifting down to rest upon Teba’s wings.

“I fear there’s no help for me,” Teba said, his voice soft and hoarse.

“I feel very alone,” Sidon admitted. “I can’t imagine how much more alone you must feel.”

Teba swallowed hard and turned his head slightly, but did not pull his wings from Sidon.

“If you took the position in the Royal Guard, we would see much more of each other,” said Sidon tentatively.

“I don’t know why you’d want that,” Teba laughed bitterly.

“Why wouldn’t I? We’ve fought together and I’ve found you to be a warrior of both great skill and great honour. I have no doubt in my mind your friendship is of a similar calibre.”

“I haven’t considered the position,” Teba said. “And I don’t know that I can help with your loneliness when...I’m so lost.”

“My fellow Zora can be wary of me, because of the strange position I find myself in, and because of Royal distance. I feel it more acutely here,” Sidon confessed. “You’ve certainly never addressed me as anything but your equal. It’s rare that I’ve found such a friend.”

Teba made a dismissive noise.

“Truly.”

“You’re persistent,” Teba gave in.

“I never give up,” Sidon agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the comments and kudos and bookmarks! It's been really exciting to see the kind of reception this fic is getting. As always, I was very eager to post this chapter and I can't wait until you see what happens next!
> 
> -sun


	5. Royal Statesmanship Gone Awry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three new content warnings added to the list at the end of the last chapter. All mild in nature, but if you need them, please review them.

**Sidon**

Teba had accepted the position in the Royal Guard, and Sidon could not deny the gladness he felt whenever he saw Teba at the castle. Closed though Teba was, Sidon was delighted to have found his way in, even if it was just to peek through the crack that Teba had left him. Sometimes, on the evenings when he was not on duty, Teba even joined Sidon to walk around Castle Town, taking in the sights of renewal as the winter chill left the air and the first hints of spring growth pushed their stalks up through the dirt.

On these rare occasions, Sidon did most of the talking—the naturally reticent Rito responding only to direct questions—but Sidon was surprised to find that he had grown quite fond of the dependable stoicism. Though Sidon was not entirely certain whether or not Teba enjoyed these excursions, he had yet to refuse one, and recalling that, Sidon’s chest grew warm. That, too, was a surprise.

Summoned to the castle one early spring day, Sidon was escorted by a member of the Royal Guard to meet with the King. In his sanctum, King Rhoam awaited reports from across the continent on the state of monsters and escaped Guardians that still ran rampant through the lands. As Sidon stood with the representatives from Gerudo, Necluda and Eldin, he noted that Nyva, the Rito envoy, was not in attendance.

Sidon glanced to Teba where he stood at the foot of the stairs in the sanctum, his golden eyes dutifully trained forward. Sidon knew there was little chance of gaining his attention when he was on duty, though he couldn’t keep his eyes from lingering on Teba’s Rito-cut uniform. Teba had replaced his grey leg-wraps with crisp white to match the high boots of the Hylian guards; he wore his beret atop his unruly crest, though Sidon knew he hated it; and the dark blue tunic hung slightly lower than the Hylian guards’ tunics, split at the back for his tail feathers. Sidon thought the blue looked exceptionally fine against Teba’s plumage.

“These reports are indeed troubling,” sighed the King after hearing the delegates.

“Our people are in need of help,” said the Necludian delegate. “We haven’t the numbers to push back such foes, not after we lost so many on Blatchery Plain in defence of the crown.”

“In defence of all Hyrule,” the King corrected sharply. “Nevertheless, I will send word and have your garrison better staffed. You’re dismissed.”

As King Rhoam disappeared through the secret corridors that linked the back of the sanctum to the King’s private walkways, Sidon broke away from the other delegates to steal a moment with Teba. Teba’s expression remained serious, a perfect soldier’s expression, as Sidon approached.

“I’m still on duty,” Teba said, barely moving his beak as he spoke.

“Have you received a demotion? You’re rarely seen outside of the princess’s personal guard.”

“If I have it’s because the captain of the guard has noticed your inclination to visit with me while I’m on duty,” Teba groused, though his quick glance to the side made Teba suspect it might be something less decorous that had Teba stationed at the foot of the stairs.

“Walk with me tonight?” Sidon asked beneath his breath, hoping the whisper did not echo across the domed ceiling to damn Teba.

Teba nodded, a quick and subtle jerk of his head.

“But go now,” Teba insisted.

Sidon couldn’t help the crooked grin that split his face as he returned to the other delegates leaving the sanctum. As they made their way down the corridor, Senal, the Gerudo delegate, dropped back to walk beside Sidon.

“You are quite taken with that Rito,” observed Senal.

“A friend,” Sidon corrected politely.

“Perhaps you ought to be careful of where you find friendship,” she warned. “It is not coincidence that Nyva missed this meeting.”

“Oh?”

Senal’s dark, elegant hand rested upon Sidon’s arm as she gestured for him to accompany her through the gardens. Sidon followed her through the corridor that branched off and opened out to the meticulously tended garden, curious as to what she was holding back.

“Nyva was recalled,” Senal said as she and Sidon walked between the rows of hedges, not fully regrown since the Calamity. “The Rito’s disdain for Hylian rule is an open secret, and it is even less a secret that their Champion feels he was not given his due, but was cast aside so the Crown might have the glory for such victory to themselves.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sidon said. “And Revali is not the leader of their village. Indeed, it’s unclear if he holds any sway at all.”

“The Rito are not like our people,” said Senal. “The Zora and Gerudo honour the hierarchies that are granted by birth. The Rito have no such system, ousting their Elders when they find their rulings displeasing. They flock to strength, and their Champion is of unmatched reputation.”

“What are you saying?” Sidon asked.

“I am saying that the Zora might think it prudent not to be seen with the Rito if they wish the stay in the Crown’s favour.”

Sidon kept his expression neutral as he stated into Senal’s dark brown eyes, endless pools to which he could not see the bottom. Though he had served as envoy for several moons, he dreaded that he had not the experience to deal with such complex matters of state. His world had been filled with different concerns.

“You have given me much to think about,” said Sidon carefully.

Sidon left the castle grounds for Varo House, the smile on his face more forced than he cared to admit as he tried to remain inconspicuous, making his way through the streets. Sidon nodded only briefly to Trello and Ledo as he made for the winding staircase to the second level.

Alone at his desk, Sidon wondered how he might phrase the information he had come upon, his pen hovering above the inkwell as he worked out how best to warn his father of the difficulty of their new agreements with the Rito. He was careful not to incriminate anyone, nor put to paper anything too revealing as he crafted his note.

“Your Highness,” said Trello, entering Sidon’s quarters.

“Yes, Trello,” answered Sidon as he folded the message and sealed it with blue-green wax.

“The hour grows late and Teba awaits you in the front hall.”

Sidon glanced up toward the glass-paned balcony doors. They had yet to be repaired, since glass had grown scarce, perpetually in demand as Castle Town rebuilt itself. Through the few remaining panes, Sidon saw that the sky beyond the city wall had turned dusky purple.

“Trello,” said Sidon. “What I have set out in this message is of the utmost sensitivity. This must be delivered directly to my father’s hand and I trust none but you to do it.”

“Would you have me leave tonight?” asked Trello as he took the message.

“Please. I would take it myself—”

“But your presence here would be missed,” nodded Trello, understanding. “It will be done, your Highness.”

“My thanks. I knew I could count on you.”

As Trello left, Sidon stood and straightened his sash. It was rare that Teba would dare to visit Varo House, and Sidon realized his watch had ended hours earlier. Ashamed that he had lost track of time, Sidon took the stairs quickly to meet Teba.

Gone was the dignified dark blue of his Royal Guard’s uniform, replaced by Teba’s usual cuirass and fauld. Sidon suspected that he hated to draw attention in the uniform, though the tall Rito was hardly an inconspicuous sight amongst the throngs of Hylians, even in this diverse quarter of the city.

“My friend, I apologize for missing our meeting,” Sidon said.

“It seemed unlike you,” Teba conceded.

“I would have thought that you’d just return to the barracks,” remarked Sidon, gesturing for Teba to follow him out to the gardens.

“Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

They passed the pool, splashing with the sound of cycling water as Ledo’s head bobbed gently in sleep, and Sidon thought that perhaps he had underestimated Teba’s affection for him. It certainly wasn’t difficult to do so; the reserved warrior hardly offered much indication as to how he felt.

“Why is it you’ve sought me out?” Sidon asked as they stepped out into the high-walled garden, dark but for the flickering flames in neighbouring streetlights.

“You were right,” Teba said, his voice so quiet that Sidon had to lean in to hear him. “I have been demoted.”

“Surely not on my account,” Sidon protested. “I’ll speak to the captain of the guard.”

“No, Sidon, don’t do that. I’m certain it has something to do with Nyva being recalled.”

“Oh?” asked Sidon, relieved that at least he had not caused Teba strife.

“Nyva asked me to return home with him, said that my serving the Crown...reflected poorly upon my countrymen.”

“And you didn’t leave. Why not?”

“It’s...” Teba hesitated.

“Whatever you say, I won’t laugh.”

“I...haven’t given up hope,” said Teba. “Not completely. The Sheikah researchers come regularly to the castle to discuss their progress. If the towers can move us through the lands...why can’t they return us home?”

“Teba...”

“It sounds ridiculous when I say it aloud.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Sidon assured him.

“To see my family again...that hope is the only thing that sustains me. Even if it is a fool’s hope.”

Sidon saw the desperate look in Teba’s eyes, even in the moonlight. That impossible hope had once driven Sidon too, and not for the first time, his heart ached for Teba. He reached out to take Teba’s wing and was surprised when Teba did not pull away.

“I hope the best for you, Teba,” Sidon said carefully. “But don’t forego peace in the present for a wild dream.”

“Funny,” said Teba taking his hand back, “I thought you of all people would say that not all hope is lost...”

“We must always hope for the best...I did not mean to discourage you.”

“No, Sidon,” sighed Teba. “This has been eye-opening.”

“Teba,” Sidon begged of him, taking both wings. “I have worried for you, this sadness that never seems to leave you.”

“Of course it doesn’t. There’s nothing for me here.”

“Surely that’s not true.”

Teba’s dark brows raised as he scoffed and shook his head.

“You?” Teba asked.

Sidon was at a surprising loss for words as Teba stared at him, though Teba had not taken his wings back from his grasp.

“I don’t mean to assume, and I certainly had no such designs on you—”

“Assume what?” Teba asked.

“Your wife...perhaps that you were inclined only toward—”

“Such singular inclinations are rare among Rito,” Teba dismissed him. “But...setting aside the question of how a Rito and a Zora might even...find themselves in such a scenario...”

Teba trailed off.

“Saki,” realized Sidon.

“My mind is still full of her,” confessed Teba. “My every moment is spent...missing...”

Teba swallowed hard and took his wing back to brush it hastily across his eyes.

“You needn’t fear talking to me,” said Sidon.

“Surely you must’ve noticed...I’m...not much for talking...I should go.”

“Teba,” pleaded Sidon, following after him as he fled through the garden, knowing he had precious seconds before Teba took to the air.

“I can’t—” said Teba as he pushed off.

“Please remember that I am here...should you need me...”

But Teba had gone, and Sidon thought that perhaps there had been much more to the walks than he had previously thought.

**Teba**

Teba was not sure whether Sidon was avoiding him because of the growing tension with the Rito or because of the way he had left their last meeting. At first, it had come as a relief not to have to explain himself or apologize, but as the moon turned, Teba found himself once more stranded on that island of loneliness and despair. 

There was no respite, save those few times when he had supped with Link in the guards’ hall. Though Link was pleasant and decent company, it was rare that Link was ever apart from his charge, his duty to his princess his _raison d’être_. It wasn’t as though Link knew him anyway, Teba thought sadly; this Link hadn’t boldly shown up at the Flight Range to take on Vah Medoh with him, though Teba didn’t doubt that his boldness remained.

Even more troublingly, Teba’s guard shifts had been altered. Prior to Nyva’s departure, Teba had been a part of Princess Zelda’s regular guard, but he found himself more and more often posted at the doors, closed outside of meetings. It was becoming increasingly clear that Teba was viewed by his superiors with suspicion, and he wondered why they hadn’t simply ejected him from the Guard.

One night as Teba took his evening meal alone at the long wooden table in the guards’ hall, he was interrupted by the arrival of the captain of the guard. It had taken Teba several moons to get into the habit of standing at attention when approached by his superior officers—the Rito did not engage in such formalities—and even yet he felt foolish as he did so.

“As you were,” the captain said, and Teba returned to the rough bench.

“You’ve need of me, Captain?” Teba asked, the honorific still foreign on his tongue.

“Your orders,” the captain said, dropping an envelope sealed in royal blue before him.

Teba nodded as he lifted the envelope from the table, lest it soak up the drops of gravy and mead that seemed ever to stain the wood.

“I wouldn’t have recommended you for such a duty,” the captain told him. “You are given this honour only at the princess’s behest.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Teba said darkly.

It was that fateful letter which found Teba garbed once more in his custom-made City Guard cuirass and fauld, soaring above the road before the sun had crested the horizon.

In the pale light of dawn, the shadows of trees looked nearly the same as foes as he scanned the road ahead for threats. He circled back once more to where the party of a few Royal Guards stood watch. The princess, Lady Impa and Link sat tall astride their horses. That Sidon had also somehow managed an invitation to this minor show of royal statecraft was a question that Teba had not yet dared to ask.

“The road’s clear,” Teba reported as he set down.

“Thank you, Teba,” said the princess as she nudged her horse onward.

“Are you really going to walk this entire way?” Teba asked Sidon.

“Horses will not bear me,” explained Sidon. “Though I’m told that I’m welcome to sit in the guards’ wagon. Perhaps you’d join me?”

“I thought I’d fly,” Teba shrugged.

“The entire way?”

“I’m to scout ahead.”

“Ah. Well in that case, don’t let me keep you from your duties,” said Sidon.

Teba flew on ahead as the daylight broke and the sky turned blue, dotted by wispy clouds. In the bright light he could see the vast reaches of Central Hyrule, the land between villages and garrisons green with fresh spring grass. It wasn’t long before Teba spotted ominous smoke to the southeast, and the telltale lights of those still corrupted Guardians.

He landed hastily to report his findings to the party. The princess pulled her horse up beside Link’s as Teba set down ahead of them, far enough away that he wouldn’t spook the horses.

“Teba, what did you find?” asked Zelda as the others gathered near.

“The eastern outpost burns,” Teba reported. “It looks like a Guardian attack.”

“Princess, they had reported sighting of Guardians along the road to Duelling Peaks,” Impa pointed out.

“Then we must help them,” said Zelda in determination.

Link cast Zelda a warning look and shook his head.

“Link’s right, Princess,” said Impa. “We can’t risk you on such a mission.”

“How am I to rule if I stand by while my people are in danger?” Zelda said sharply.

“You there,” Impa called to one of the mounted guards. “Send word to Kolomo Garrison that we need reinforcements at East Post. And you return to the castle, inform the King and the Captain of the Guard that East Post burns.”

The guards hesitated for a moment.

“Go! Do as you’re bidden!” Zelda ordered.

Zelda turned her horse, about to set out toward East Post, ignoring the hand Link rested on her knee to halt her.

“It’s not prudent for you to enter such a place, Your Highness,” Teba said.

“Thank you, Teba. That will be all,” she dismissed him as she stubbornly set out and left Teba standing in the road.

“What’s happened?” Sidon asked.

“I hope you’re prepared for battle,” said Teba. “The princess is determined to see us in one.”

In flight, Teba could easily see the settlement around the outpost falling to the Guardian and monsters that attacked, though it was hours before they encountered the first casualties fleeing north. Zelda left several guards to escort the civilians to safety. Their ranks thinned, Teba feared that the headstrong princess would see them to their deaths.

But Teba had never been one to shy from battle, and as they entered the burning settlement that evening Teba fought at Link’s side as they defeated the Guardian. Mechanical husk now lying against the broken fountain, the five stood still, wondering if there was more to come. Teba glanced down an alley between two burned out buildings, but the world was dark save for the glow of cinders.

“That wasn’t so bad,” said Sidon, returning his tridents to his back as the group watched the ancient machine’s lights go dark.

“This was the work of more than a single Guardian,” observed Impa as she surveyed the smouldering ruins.

“Teba,” prompted Zelda.

And without a word, Teba pushed off and circled up above the smouldering outpost. Impa had been right, moblins and bokoblins roamed the streets beyond their position, and they were closing in. Teba landed quickly to convey the news, but it was too late; those glowing eyes were already visible between the crumbling, lime-washed walls.

“Get the princess out of here,” Teba told Link. “I’ll cover your escape.”

“I can fight!” Zelda insisted as Link took her arm.

“Princess, go!” Impa called after them, drawing her kodachi as she stood beside Teba.

“I fight at your side,” pledged Sidon, his tridents in hand.

“Just like old times,” said Impa as the monsters spotted them.

They launched into battle, Teba pushing off into the air to engage the moblin ahead of him. It took time to wear the thing down with regular arrows, but Teba’s aim was true. Finally, the beast bellowed in agony and Teba set down to finish it with his feathered edge. Teba spun, two slashes taking out the bokoblins that surrounded him on the ground.

“We must retreat!” Sidon shouted.

“Wait!” called Impa.

Impa paused as though in prayer. An explosive _crack_ rent the air and the large tree at the edge of the village square snapped near the base and fell to block the path of the monsters that swarmed from the burning alleys. But Impa’s moment of silent contemplation had cost her.

Yet lost in stillness, a moblin bore down upon Impa, swinging a club of hardwood lashed with dragon bone. Not enough time to do more than react, Teba threw himself between Impa and the moblin. The crude weapon bent the precious steel of the feathered edge, the force of it reverberating up Teba’s wings and sending him crashing backward into Impa.

Dropping the blade, Teba whipped his falcon bow from his back, but fumbled his arrow as he and Impa scrambled gracelessly to their feet. The wildly-swinging club crashed through the bow and Teba heard rather than felt the contact with his skull.

“Sidon!” Impa hollered, the sound of her kodachi slicing the air as Teba hit the cobbles.

“Just go,” Teba heard himself mutter as strong arms lifted him.

“We are,” Sidon promised.

The burning world turned black.

\---

It was the sickening rocking and creaking of wagon wheels that roused Teba. He cracked an eyelid, but immediately closed it against the harsh lantern light. Breathing in wakefulness, he gradually became aware of the terrible pain in his head and neck, the cloth pressed firmly against the stinging above his temple, the hand beneath his head that protected him from the bouncing bed of the wagon.

“Teba, try to stay awake,” came a voice he wanted so badly to convince himself was Harth’s. The way the scales caught in his feathers, Teba knew it could only be Sidon.

“Why didn’t you leave me?” Teba asked, his voice thin and slurred to his own hearing.

“Why would I?”

“I told you to go.”

“I suppose I didn’t hear you,” said Sidon as Teba reached up a wing to cover his clenched eyes.

Teba felt a fool. It had been long years since he had performed so gracelessly in battle, and he half-wished he had been left to die for his dishonour. The foolishness was nothing compared to the bile he felt rising in his throat at every rut in the road.

“We need to stop,” Teba choked as he grasped at Sidon’s muscled forearm.

“Stop, please,” Sidon called to the driver.

The cart still wobbled on as Teba sat up in a frantic burst of energy, wings scrabbling on the sideboard as hung his head over the side, his stomach heaving. His throat burning with bile, Teba rested his forehead to his wings, unable to convince himself to move.

“We have to keep going,” came Impa’s insistent voice.

“We will,” Sidon assured her, his hand on Teba’s shoulder. “A momentary stop.”

The wagon started rolling once more and Teba couldn’t hold back the moan that broke from his beak as that terrible motion recommenced.

“Come, Teba,” Sidon said softly.

Teba could not form words to protest as Sidon gently prised his wings from where they clenched the sideboard. Wincing mightily, he leaned back against Sidon’s chest and felt the rough cloth pressed once more to his head. Teba dared to open his eyes and saw the blood on the back of his wing where he had rested his head against it.

“Did you not inherit a blessing from the Goddess?” Teba grimaced as Sidon held him.

“I’m afraid only my sister has such a skill.”

Concerned that he might be seen in such a pathetic state, Teba squirmed from Sidon’s comforting hold and let himself be lowered back to the wagon bed.

“My friend, don’t go to sleep again,” Sidon admonished him.

But every second awake was hell, that razor’s edge pressed against his mind.

“I don’t believe I have a choice,” Teba murmured as he felt the world growing distant around him.

As things grew softer, the wagon’s motion could have been that of his hammock swaying gently in the breeze that blew through his roost. Sidon’s soft voice turned to Harth’s brash tone. The weight that pressed upon him was only Tulin, leaping into his hammock to beg him to go to the Flight Range. The gentle touch on his face, Saki, reaching over to rouse him from the pleasant dream...

Teba’s eyes flared open as the wagon bounced hard through a rut in the road. The sweetness of that delusion was chased away once more by pain as Teba reached out to grasp at the only lifeline remaining to him.

“We won’t be long for the city now,” Sidon assured him, smoothing the feathers on the back of Teba’s wing.

With that harsh edge of wakefulness once more pressed against him, Teba wept for the dream where he had hoped to stay.


	6. Open Wound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings updated at end of most recent chapter.

**Sidon**

They reached the city gates as daylight broke, pale and underwhelming through the drizzle. Teba had struggled through the night, shielding his eyes with his shaking wing against any hint of light and drifting in and out of wakefulness, his head resting heavily in Sidon’s hand. Sidon had not left the wagon for even a moment.

As they passed beneath the portcullis in the outer city wall, Link, Zelda and Impa remained astride their horses. Impa fell back beside the wagon, and Sidon saw she had re-bound the tattered wrap around her forearm to cover the blood where she had shielded herself during the battle. She glanced up at ramparts and Sidon followed her gaze to the guards who stood watch above.

“Call for them to halt,” Sidon said, signalling for Impa’s attention.

“Why?” asked Impa from atop her horse as she glanced at Teba and Sidon in the wagon.

“He won’t want to be seen like this.”

“We’ll be at the castle soon enough. The physician will see to him.”

“I mean to say,” Sidon quietly clarified, worried about betraying Teba’s confidence, “he won’t want to be seen by the other guards. Let me take him to Varo House.”

“You may find the princess feels put out by this request,” Impa warned him under her breath.

“I’ll accept any consequences,” Sidon said, resting his hand gently upon Teba’s breast as he stirred.

“As you say,” sighed Impa, nudging her horse up beside Link and Zelda’s.

Sidon dared to glance in the princess’s direction as Impa approached apologetically. Zelda glanced back at the wagon and Sidon quickly returned his gaze to Teba. Teba was barely conscious as Sidon idly smoothed the feathers that poked out over the top of his cuirass, damp from the fine rain.

“Prince Sidon.”

Sidon glanced up at the sound of Zelda’s voice.

“I understand that Teba values his privacy. We’ll escort you to Varo House and dispatch the court physician.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” said Sidon, relieved not to have to carry Teba through the winding streets. Surely, that would not have gone unnoticed.

As the wagon pulled up to Varo House, Sidon gathered Teba in his arms and stepped from the back of the wagon. Teba shaded his closed eyes with a moan, his feathers catching on the bloodstained rag wrapped around his wound.

“Don’t fear, you’re safe,” Sidon told him as Teba’s head rested against his shoulder.

Impa collected Teba’s quiver and broken bow from the back of the wagon and followed Sidon as he took the sloping walkway to the entrance. Ledo, patching at a crack in the foundation, saw them and set aside his tools to pull open the door. Scandalized, the apprentice builder trailed after them through the entrance hall.

“What happened?” gasped Ledo as Sidon took the stairs up to the residence level.

“There was an attack on an outpost,” Impa explained grimly, following Sidon into his quarters.

“Your Highness, you could bring him to one of the guest rooms,” Ledo pointed out.

“Ledo, it’s too bright in here, please close the curtains,” said Sidon, politely ignoring Ledo’s suggestion.

Without another word, Ledo did as he was bidden. Sidon laid Teba upon the bed as gently as he could, and Teba sucked in a painful breath as his head touched the pillow.

“The physician will be here soon,” Impa said, joining Sidon at the bedside.

Teba flinched at the sound of Impa’s encouraging—albeit, slightly loud—tone.

“Impa, Ledo...perhaps you could meet them?” Sidon said tactfully.

“Of course,” nodded Impa, setting the remains of the falcon bow on Sidon’s desk.

“Certainly,” agreed Ledo, though he glanced warily at Teba as he left behind Impa, closing the door just slightly too hard.

“Thank you,” whispered Teba.

Sidon knelt beside the bed and rested a hand upon Teba’s wing.

“Please, if there is anything I can do.”

Teba said nothing, but reached up to fret with the shoulder strap on his cuirass.

“Let me help,” Sidon offered, taking over the buckle. 

The leather was damp from the misty journey, and as Sidon carefully assisted with Teba’s armour, he could see the groove that it had left in his feathers. Teba held his neck with both wings, his brow furrowed as Sidon hung the garment on the open door of the wardrobe to dry.

Quietly as possible, Sidon moved his desk chair to the bedside to sit with Teba. He hadn’t offered to stay, but neither did Teba ask him to leave. As Teba held his neck, his eyes clenched shut, Sidon tried not to stare at how Teba’s feathers grew slightly silver on his breast, a detail he had not before known.

“Normally,” Teba rasped, breaking the silence. “Normally, my wife...would see to me.”

“You’re very fortunate,” said Sidon softly.

“She’s the village healer.”

“You’ll be taken care of here,” Sidon assured him.

“I’m not fond of...stitching,” Teba admitted. “But Saki...”

Teba trailed off, dropping his wing to the mattress, and Sidon took Teba’s hand between both of his.

“What about Saki?” Sidon prompted, hoping to keep Teba awake.

“She’s quick with the needle.”

“I’ll stay by your side if you wish and give you a hand to hold.”

Even in his wretched state Teba scoffed, but his hand clenched around Sidon’s, betraying his desperation. Sidon wouldn’t have let him go anyway.

As he sat with Teba, listening to the harshly whispered stories of his life, Sidon realized he would have given him anything to help with the pain. Teba didn’t shed a tear as he spoke of his wife, and how she had once stitched his leg in the freezing mountains, the wind blowing around them. Even in this terrible state, his love for her was obvious. Selfishly, Sidon wished that he could be the focus of such immense devotion.

“The physician is here,” Impa announced, leading a tall, grey-haired woman into the chamber.

“No one told me I would be treating a Rito,” she remarked as she saw Teba.

“I’m afraid I fail to see how that is relevant,” Sidon said, surprised by the edge of defensiveness that crept into his tone on Teba’s behalf.

“Sit down, son,” the physician said firmly. “I only mention this as I haven’t the experience treating Rito.”

“It’s just a head wound,” Teba complained. “Stitch it closed as you would a Hylian, and allow me something for the pain.”

“I had heard that Rito make for terrible patients,” she said as she carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage from Teba’s head.

As Sidon held Teba’s hand, the physician cleared her throat and gestured that he move.

“I’m afraid you’re in my way,” she told Sidon.

“I promised I would stay—”

“There’s really no need for that.”

“I want him here,” Teba insisted.

In spite of the grim circumstance, Sidon couldn’t deny the strange warmth that blossomed in his chest to hear that. Sidon moved to the foot of the bed and rested his hand on Teba’s mud-splattered leg-wrap, to let him know he was near. How strange and fragile Rito bones seemed, he thought as he felt the delicate limb beneath his touch, so unlike the cartilage and muscle of sturdy Zora bodies.

As the physician cleansed the wound with clear spirits, Teba flinched away from the cloth and drew in a sharp breath. Sidon reached up to hold Teba’s clenched wing, though the bed frame pressed uncomfortably against his thighs. The physician sighed and glanced between them, Sidon feeling unexpectedly exposed under her knowing gaze.

“If you must hold his hand, perhaps you ought to sit with him,” she said.

Sidon settled himself onto the bed with Teba and sat with his back to the cool stone wall as he took both wings in his hands. As the physician saw to the wound, Teba held Sidon’s hands in a quivering grip. Knowing Teba would not wish to hear platitudes with another in the room, Sidon held back his words and settled for circling his thumbs gently over the backs of Teba’s wings.

When his head had been stitched and bandaged and the physician stood to leave, Teba covered his eyes once more with his wing. Sidon stood and followed the physician, extinguishing the lanterns on the way out, and closing the door quietly behind him.

“He needs rest,” said the physician. 

“Is there nothing for the pain?” Sidon pressed.

“I would not advise it; he needs to be awakened frequently. Too many times have I seen a blow to the head put a soldier into a sleep from which they did not wake.”

“I’ll remain with him,” Sidon vowed.

“Hm,” sighed the physician as she looked him up and down. “Don’t forget your own rest.”

“Thank you for attending us,” Sidon said graciously, though the woman got under his scales. “Trello will see you out.”

Surprised to have been caught in the middle of nothing in particular, Trello obliged, showing her down the stairs. Without so much as a glance behind him, Sidon returned to the darkened room, the weak light of the day still glowing around the spaces above the curtains.

“Sidon?” came Teba’s voice.

“I’m here,” Sidon told him.

In hopes of discouraging curious Zora and Sheikah visitors, Sidon carefully shut the door, engulfing the room in pale darkness. As his eyes adjusted, Sidon moved carefully back to his seat by Teba’s bedside.

“I can’t undo this,” said Teba as he struggled with his fauld.

“You want it off?”

“So I might sleep.”

Sidon made quick work of the fastenings even in the dark and brought the piece to hang with Teba’s cuirass on the door of the wardrobe. Stacked on a shelf inside, Sidon’s eye caught the rustic quilt he had folded so carefully when first he moved in—the relic of the former envoy’s husband. Even in the dark, Teba’s white feathers were easy to pick out as he shifted uneasily.

Sidon took the quilt from the shelf, half unfolded it, and gently spread it over Teba, smoothing the edge of it across his breast. As Sidon sat down in the chair at the bedside, Teba took the hand on his breast, Sidon’s scales catching on Teba’s wing where he trailed his fingers through the feathers. Teba had taken his hand, Sidon thought, that strange warmth returning in spite of his worry.

In a moment of boldness, Sidon reached out to stroke Teba’s cheek and Teba did not recoil.

“I’m...appreciative...of all you’ve done for me,” Teba managed in that vague way that Rito expressed gratitude.

“You should rest, my friend,” said Sidon softly. “I’ll watch over you.”

**Teba**

By nightfall, the wound felt hot and tight beneath the bandages and Teba knew it would soon fester. He was wracked with feverish chills, and the invitation of the local healer the next morning did nothing to fill him with confidence as she bound his head with a poultice to draw out the corruption. Sidon tried to assure him that all was well; perhaps Sidon had forgotten that he had married a healer. 

Teba had seen this all before. He had even once held Harth as Saki cut her fine stitching from Harth’s wounded leg to pack it with a burning herbal remedy passed down by her ancestors. Harth had shivered with fever for three nights while Teba kept him company through the ennui of convalescence.

The pain from the wound was bad enough on its own, Teba thought, but the accompanying fever made every moment seem to stretch into a day. He would drift off without knowing he had and awaken frightened, dreaming over and over that he had set his roost aflame—dreaming that he had lost everyone. Yet, whenever Teba awoke tangled in the bed-linens, Sidon was there.

“I want to keep the blanket,” Teba shivered as Sidon attempted to take the quilt from him.

“The healer said you’re too warm,” Sidon explained patiently.

“I’d rather be the judge of that,” Teba complained, grasping the edge of the quilt with all of his strength.

In the end, Sidon gave in and drew the quilt over Teba’s shoulder and tucked it around him. As Sidon rested his hand on Teba’s wing through the blanket, Teba was glad to have his back to him; he was in no way prepared to admit how grateful he was for Sidon’s care.

Teba had been on the edge of wakefulness when he had heard Sidon directing the wagon away from the castle garrison on his behalf, and he still could not revisit the simple thoughtfulness of the action without his insides twisting at the unbearable kindness.

“You must have other duties to attend to,” Teba said as Sidon’s hand moved up to shift his braid from where it had fallen across his face.

It must have been the fever confusing his senses, Teba thought as Sidon drew his hand through the wild feathers that poked out beneath the bandage. He was loath admit how he enjoyed the feel of those claws running gently through his feathers. Surely he was only missing Saki’s touch in his vulnerable state.

“Sometimes when you sleep I write missives,” Sidon evaded.

“But have you not been called to the castle?”

Sidon sat in silence, never ceasing to draw the comforting hand along Teba’s face. Whatever it was that Sidon felt for Teba, it was more affection than Teba knew how to handle in his state. He regretfully pushed away the gentle touch; he did not deserve such kindness.

“Don’t worry yourself on my account,” Teba said.

“Teba I’ve—my sister has been summoned to Castle Town. Please let Mipha see to your wound when she arrives.”

“Is it that bad?” Teba asked, rolling weakly onto his back so he could witness Sidon’s reaction.

Sidon’s mouth was a tight line, and his eyes held the same sadness that they ever did. It was funny, Teba thought, how people so often saw the winning smile and failed to notice how it never reached Sidon’s eyes. Though perhaps Teba was merely searching for some scrap of likeness between them.

“Your silence is telling.”

“The infection is much worse than we thought,” Sidon admitted. “The poultice didn’t work as it should have.” 

Sidon reached beneath the blanket for Teba’s wing as he spoke. Succumbing to infection seemed an unhappy way to go, but Teba didn’t know that he had the will to fight it. Would he go to where his family was?

“Don’t think that, Teba.”

“Think what?”

“You’re very dear to me,” Sidon said. “Whatever you think you are deserving of in this melancholy that grips you, I promise you are not.”

“Please let me rest,” Teba whispered, closing his eyes and squeezing Sidon’s hand. “I will agree to see Mipha when she arrives.”

He thought perhaps he owed Sidon that much.

**Sidon**

Teba slipped into sleep once more and Sidon carefully turned down the blanket with one hand to let the heat away from Teba’s body. His other hand was still wrapped tightly in Teba’s wing. As the night wore on, Teba slept fitfully, and Trello came in to bring them a tray.

“Your Highness,” said Trello, staring sadly at Sidon’s hand in Teba’s.

“I’m afraid I don’t want to hear it, Trello,” said Sidon, seeing his expression.

“The Rito are not a long-lived people, even among land-dwellers.”

“Unless you bring news of Mipha, then please, I’d rather be left in silence.”

“Of course,” said Trello as he retreated.

Trello was trying to protect him, Sidon knew, trying to prepare him for the worst. But Mipha was on her way, she would be here to make things right. Goddesses above, how he needed her to put things right!

The night dragged on, the wicks in the lamps burning low as Sidon watched over Teba. Sometimes he spoke in his fretful sleep, naming the people Sidon knew he cared for most. Once he called out for his father. 

Teba was so frightfully hot as Sidon stroked his cheek, and he tried to cool him as the healer had suggested, running a cold cloth over his beak, face and neck. Sidon could not yet see the sun through the dark curtains, but he knew they were not far from morning. Despairingly, he wondered why the Goddess had left his hands so clumsy, without the talents of his sister, why he could only hold a trident in defence of those he loved and not bring them back from the brink as she could.

“Sidon.”

Sidon had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not heard the door. Mipha stood in her simple travelling cloak, the trappings of her office removed.

“Mipha,” he whispered gratefully. “Please.”

Sidon stood and moved the chair aside as Mipha crossed the room. She unwound the bandage on Teba’s head, and removed the dressing, soaked in troubling stains.

“His fever is very severe,” said Mipha softly, a tiny hand on the side of Teba’s face.

“Please tell me he isn’t beyond your help.”

“I will try,” Mipha vowed, a slight tremor in her voice.

Mipha held her hand above that terrible wound and closed her eyes. Her hand trembled a little as the dark room glowed with her healing light. Sidon watched in wonder as the swelling receded and the terrible openness pulled closed. A pink patch was all that remained when Mipha took back her hand and held it to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said, stepping back her hand quivering. “That is all I can offer.”

Sidon took Teba’s face in his hands—still warm, but not frighteningly so—and watched his steady breathing. His sleep had calmed and Sidon returned the quilt to him, laying it carefully across his breast.

“Please, excuse me,” said Mipha as she left the darkened room.

Assured that Teba would not slip away while he was gone, Sidon smoothed the feathers on his cheek once more and followed Mipha out onto the residential level. She stood, hands clasped together, a look of profound sadness in her eyes.

“Thank you for responding to my summons so quickly,” he said.

“I would do anything for you, my brother,” she said. “Does Teba know?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How you feel about him.”

Sidon was not sure how to respond. Certainly everyone else seemed to have formed their own ideas of what Sidon felt for Teba, when Sidon himself wasn’t even sure he could put a name to it.

“Are you struggling with your abilities?” Sidon evaded.

Mipha smiled a bit sadly, and Sidon wanted to hold her close and make that terrible expression go away.

“When I heal...I think of—I _thought_ of...” she trailed off.

“Of Link,” Sidon realized quietly.

“Of Revali,” she whispered.

Perhaps Sidon shouldn’t have been surprised that Mipha had fallen for the charm of the arrogant archer. Uncertain though he was of his precise feelings for Teba, Sidon couldn’t fail to acknowledge the appeal of Rito warriors.

“We’re in a difficult position with the Rito,” he said.

“They’ve cut off all trade outside of their lands. They defend their borders. His last communication with me...his priority is the sovereignty of the Rito.”

“I’m sorry,” Sidon said.

“Perhaps things can be mended,” said Mipha, though the sadness lingered in her voice.

“Sister, for your sake, I truly hope so.”

**Teba**

Teba sat on the edge of Sidon’s bed, his strength finally returned after days spent lying in bed. He was relieved not to have been sent back to the castle barracks after Mipha had healed him, wary of his fellow soldiers in light of the growing animosity toward the Rito. 

In that time, Sidon had been a host of unbelievable generosity, unyieldingly patient, even in those first few days when Teba feared he might never rise from the bed again for the terrible pain in his head. Even now, Sidon extended his care without hesitation, and Teba could not deny his gratitude after so long without another to depend upon.

“It seems to be healing nicely,” Sidon said, gently pushing back the feathers on Teba’s crest to examine the scarred patch where Mipha had healed him. “You’ll be on your feet and fighting in no time.”

“I imagine you’ll be happy to be rid of me,” winced Teba, his neck still stiff from the injury.

“Your company has brightened my lonely quarters,” Sidon told him, though Teba had his doubts about that.

Had he been cognizant at the time, Teba would have protested being carried from the field of battle, but he did not now refuse Sidon’s tender care. Though the supple, scaled fingers that dabbed a salve of honey and herbs onto his wound were not the loving wings of his wife, Teba leaned into the contact, aching to feel anything other than this terrible void of loneliness.

“Stay still,” Sidon softly chided, tilting Teba’s head gently with two fingers.

As Sidon took his hand back, Teba impulsively caught it, holding it once more to his cheek, the touch as comforting now as it had been in those feverish nights. Sidon stared at him, but did not pull away, and Teba’s heart beat furiously beneath his breast.

“Teba,” breathed Sidon.

“You prefer men.”

“Not everyone is so flexible in their attractions as the Rito,” Sidon nodded.

“Is this—do you want this?” Teba asked, his wing shaking over Sidon’s hand.

“If you feel that you are in my debt—”

“No,” Teba denied tersely.

“I know that your heart remains with Saki—”

He was right, Teba thought, but this had very little to do with his heart.

“I always berated Harth for being unable to move on after his wife’s death. Told him he ought to do it for closure,” Teba felt the harshness of those words now. “Perhaps I should follow my own advice.”

Sidon studied his face, the sharp gold eyes moving back and forth as Teba tried to avoid meeting his gaze.

“If you think this will bring closure, you know I’m at your disposal.”

“It sounds terrible when you say it like that,” said Teba with a bitter laugh.

“I mean only that I had no one of such significance in my life to leave behind. I can’t imagine the pain of such a loss—”

“They aren’t lost,” Teba interrupted. “They simply...” Teba swallowed hard, “ _aren’t_.”

Sidon’s thumb smoothed the feathers on Teba’s cheek with such gentleness that Teba nearly wept. The Zora prince was so tender, so unwaveringly kind that Teba feared to take advantage of such a sweet soul.

“Tell me what you need,” Sidon encouraged, his fingers buried in Teba’s wild crest as he held his face.

“I don’t know what I need,” Teba said.

Sidon set down the pot of salve and took Teba’s face in both hands, the residue of the honey catching in his feathers nearly as much as Sidon’s scales did.

“How do Rito kiss?” Sidon asked

“We don’t,” said Teba, caught so off his guard that he nearly laughed aloud. “We touch beaks, though Hylians call it kissing.”

As Sidon pressed his cool mouth to the curve of Teba’s beak, Teba nuzzled against him, thinking of Saki and Harth, unable it imagine this with anyone else. As Sidon’s hands wandered down Teba’s back, Teba reached out to reciprocate, his wings trailing over the smooth shoulders, the barbs of his feathers catching as he brushed Sidon’s scales against the grain.

They moved quickly, Teba’s mind lost to those whom he had once held, as he searched for feeling in Sidon. Their bodies fit together strangely, and Teba relished the ache, relished the sharp teeth that drew blood on his shoulder, relished being lost for a moment. Then came only emptiness.

As Sidon rose from the bed, Teba felt the acute sting of loss—the realization that he would never again find this with Saki or Harth. Overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion, Teba curled on his side and turned away from Sidon fearing those tears that pricked his eyes might escape.

“My friend,” said Sidon softly, his hand resting upon Teba’s shoulder.

“My whole life is gone. I thought with this I might move on...only I’m reminded of everything that is lost to me.”

As he covered his face, Teba felt Sidon’s weight on the bed behind him and those scaled arms around him, holding him as Saki sometimes had. It was that which broke him, and Teba was awash in shame as he wept.

“Whatever I can do for you,” Sidon offered, his voice marred with sadness as he smoothed back Teba’s crest. “You need only ask.”

“There’s nothing,” Teba whispered.

Sidon, Teba had learned, was as stubborn as he was generous. Instead of returning to the Zoras’ communal resting pool as he had the past few nights, he wrapped himself around Teba. As he wept, Teba was sure he had never felt such pain; it was as though everything inside of him had been shaken loose and those he had lost were being torn from him with each aching sob.

As Teba drowned in his grief, Sidon was mercifully silent, curled protectively around him, and smoothed Teba’s feathers until he cried himself out and finally slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did write the actual sex scene! You can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29546607). This is an _explicit_ scene and is intended for an adult audience. Please read the tags carefully!


	7. No Good Deed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings have updated (see notes at the end of the fic)

**Teba**

The morning was inordinately cool and Teba lay in a half-sleep, praying his mind would plunge him once more into that pleasant dream that still played on the edges of his mind. As he lay drifting, he recalled a flyover he and Harth had undertaken as new warriors.

The wind had howled through the mountains, the accompanying blizzard making it nearly impossible to find their way home. After an attempt to shout above the storm, they gave up and set down. In the blinding snow, neither of them had seen the silver pelt of the lost moblin. 

When the beast struck out with its bone-lashed club, Teba had pushed Harth out of harm’s way and drew his feathered edge to engage the beast. Teba could remember nothing from the battle, save for gut wrenching horror as the precious steel of his feathered edge warped under the force of the moblin’s blow. The next wild swing struck Teba’s wing, sending him sprawling into the snow.

Certain he was about to meet his end, Teba had steeled himself for what would surely be the terrible crack of dragonbone against his skull. Instead, Teba had felt the warm spray of malice-tainted blood as Harth flew behind the beast and opened its throat.

Seeing Teba’s terrible state, Harth had crouched in the snow with him, carefully probing his wing. Gentle as Harth was, Teba still cursed and swore, so close to tears he felt ashamed to call himself a warrior. He wouldn’t have made it home on that wounded wing, so Harth swallowed his panic and found a shallow impression in the mountainside. It wasn’t precisely a shelter, but it cut the wind enough that they could build a fire.

Teba had shivered the whole night through in the thin mountain air, his wing throbbing terribly as Harth did his best to keep the swelling down by pressing snow to either side. Dizzy and sick from the pain of it, Teba had finally given in and curled on his side not far from the flames that snapped nearly to nothing in the wind. 

Seeing his misery, Harth had lain in the snow behind Teba and wrapped his wings around him. Teba wasn’t certain that their feelings had been first exposed that night, but as Harth’s beak nuzzled daringly in Teba’s crest, it had fanned the spark between them.

As Teba lay on the edge of wakefulness, he prayed he would wake to find Harth wrapped around him once more. He knew he was fooling himself, but Teba’s heart still plummeted at the catch of scales on his wing as Sidon shifted. At the touch of Sidon’s mouth on the back of his neck, Teba covered it with his wing to prevent a second kiss.

“Teba. Are you well?”

“I don’t—last night wasn’t...” 

Goddess, he was the furthest thing from well. Fully awake, he could hear the rain beating upon the animal skin and glass that covered the window panes and wished the noise would drown out the shame he felt for the night before. He had been lonely, Teba tried to tell himself, and Sidon had been a willing distraction. But lying in Sidon’s arms now, Teba felt compelled to apologize for having taken advantage of his feelings.

“I—” Teba cleared his throat, Sidon’s arms still wrapped so protectively around him. “What do you—”

“If you’re concerned that I expected something to come of this, please don’t be,” said Sidon.

“I’m—I appreciate this.”

As Sidon withdrew his kind embrace, Teba found the shadow of safety he had felt lying with Sidon had suddenly withdrawn as well. Immediately regretful, he didn’t know how to ask for its return.

“I should return to the barracks today,” Teba resigned himself as he sat up.

“Of course.”

“But if you still...wished to walk in the evenings...”

The sudden smile that crossed Sidon’s face was once of such sincerity that Teba was momentarily taken aback.

“I’d like that very much.”

Sidon left Teba to preen himself and dress. As Teba held the dark leather cuirass, he stared at the metal inlay, wishing the Hyrulean coat of arms to be replaced with Rito insignia. He didn’t want to return to Rito Village only to have to grovel to Revali to be reinstated, but he was poorly suited to service in the castle, no matter how much Zelda wanted him as a part of her personal guard.

Teba sighed at the empty sheath resting on Sidon’s desk, recalling how the blade had bent beneath the force of the moblin’s club. He wasn’t sure he could procure another Rito blade while there was such tension between the Rito and the Crown, but Hylian weapons were far too heavy in flight. A Sheikah blade might do; perhaps Impa could help him procure one.

So lost in thought was Teba, he didn’t notice his bow until he lifted his quiver from the desk.

“Teba, I’ve asked for a tray to be sent up, is there—”

Sidon trailed off as he approached the desk.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Teba asked numbly, his eyes fixed upon the splintered wood

“We can have a replacement found,” Sidon said softly.

“This...cannot be replaced,” Teba whispered, fighting against the tears that choked his voice. 

“I’m so sorry.”

Sidon reached out to cover Teba’s wing with his hand and Teba jerked back, inhaling deeply and willing himself not to cry in front of Sidon again.

“Harth made it for me. It was a gift,” Teba managed.

It was more than that, but how could Teba explain the bond of shadow mates? That affection between them that their wives had accepted as the bonds of warriors who risked their lives together; it was not uncommon among Rito warriors to have such love outside the confines of marriage. That Harth had sealed that quiet pact with the gift of a falcon bow he had crafted for Teba was not only respectable, but binding—he and Harth belonged to one another as much as he and Saki did. 

Recalling this, Teba was flooded with shame from his activities with Sidon the night before, guilt for his betrayal of both of their memories crashing over him. Goddess, was there no place in this world where he could escape his shattered heart?

“Teba...”

“I’m going back to the barracks,” Teba said tightly, leaving those terrible fragments behind on the desk as he pushed past Sidon. “I expect I’ll see you at the castle.”

Teba didn’t fly off in fear this time, but left down the grand staircase and through the entrance hall. Swallowing his tears before he was once more under the scrutiny of his fellow guards, Teba trudged quietly through the grey morning.

**Sidon**

“Brother, you look troubled,” remarked Mipha, joining him where he waded alone in the resting pool.

Sidon shook his head, the mask of his smile returning to his face without thought. Mipha’s empathetic gaze spoke volumes to how much she could see through that smiling shell, and he marvelled at how she could know him so well when he felt he knew her nearly not at all.

“Father has suggested that I am to go treat with the Rito on our behalf,” Mipha told him quietly.

“So you are leaving then?”

“I would have you come with me,” she said, looking hopefully up at him from beneath her cephalic ridge.

“I don’t know what help I could be on such an expedition, and I am almost certain to be needed here,” he protested.

“I had thought, perhaps, that we might bring Teba.”

“Teba has sworn his allegiance to the Crown. I doubt he would be a welcome guest among the Rito.”

Mipha quickly schooled her surprised expression into something less revealing. Sidon’s mouth tightened—what was she withholding?

“Mipha,” Sidon prompted.

“The Gerudo envoy, Senal...”

“Senal is quite the font of information,” said Sidon, concerned.

“While you tended Teba and I saw to your duties at court, it became clear that the Crown and the Rito have suffered a divide. If I were in such a privileged position of friendship with Teba...” she hesitated. “I might warn him that he is not safe at court.”

Seeing the meaningful look in Mipha’s eyes, Sidon nodded his understanding. He would speak to Teba when they next arranged their walk; he certainly owed it to him.

“Muzu will take over our duties here while we see to negotiations further abroad,” Mipha said.

“And how will he explain my absence?”

“We are the best hope of maintaining the friendship of the Rito.”

Sidon had read of these alliances, but the world in which he had lived was so isolated that these concerns were foreign to him. He half-wished the Zora could retreat in on themselves once more, that pledge to the Crown their ancestors had made for peace, suddenly felt the thing that might spark a war.

“Then you know I will be at your side,” Sidon pledged.

**Teba**

Posted once more outside of the doors, Teba stood, bored, eyes fixed ahead, shifting his weight as he held the ceremonial halberd. He knew Sidon was inside with the other delegates, and wished he too could be inside, if only to feel the presence of his friend in the room.

In the barracks, things had grown tense in his absence. In some ill-mannered prank, the other guards had taken his hammock and thrown it in the latrines behind the stable. He feared to report it, lest he become the target of further harassment, and was far too embarrassed to mention it to Link when they supped at the rough-hewn table in guards’ mess.

As he waited outside of the sanctum, Teba hoped Sidon would still consent to be seen with him, though Teba’s feelings remained a tangle from the night they had shared. The meeting would be over soon—at least Teba hoped it would—and for a moment he might speak with Sidon and feel calm once more. In the crass cruelty of the barracks, Teba had most missed Sidon’s kindness.

Finally, the meeting let out. As Teba stepped to the side of the open door he could see Sidon leaving the hall, a heavy book and leather folio in his arms. As Sidon made for the door, Teba could feel his skin growing a little warm beneath his feathers, his heart beating as rapidly as a hummingbird’s. But Sidon did not make eye contact, and Teba’s chest constricted with ice. Had the hostility between the Hylians and Rito got to him as well?

Ignoring Teba as they would any guard, the envoys passed him by, their conversation light and apolitical as it was meant to be in public. Sidon had fallen to the back of the group. His eyes flicked quickly to Teba before the folio slid from the top of the book, hitting Teba’s talon and spilling papers into the floor.

Teba stepped back, trying hard to repress the huff of pain that made it through his beak.

“Please accept my apologies,” Sidon said as he bent to pick up the scattered papers, his expression one of unguarded shame.

“Yes,” grunted Teba as he bent to help him.

Under the cover of gathering his fallen papers, Sidon slipped his hand beneath Teba’s wing, quickly withdrawing and leaving a tightly folded piece of paper behind. Teba surreptitiously slid the note into his belt, relieved beyond words to know that this frost was just an act.

“Thank you,” Sidon whispered as he stood.

Teba nodded, wishing he could reach out to him. As Sidon made his way down the corridor, Teba thought how strange it was that he yearned so often for his presence—surely it was the loneliness of being the only Rito among the hostile Hylian guards getting to him. He couldn’t possibly feel anything else toward Sidon, his mind still too full of Harth and Saki.

The watch dragged on until, finally, Teba was relieved. He returned to the barracks, preparing to change out of the conspicuous blue of the Royal Guard outfit into his own cuirass and fauld to leave the castle grounds. As he reached his hammock and the chest of his belongings that rested beneath it, Teba froze when he saw there was something in his bedding.

Cautiously flipping back the cover, Teba started to find two wood-carved phalluses bound at their bases by a leather thong. His chest burning with anger, he glanced back at the guards who laughed in their bunks behind him. They couldn’t know; how could they possibly know?

“Because Zora have two, right?” called one of the guards from his bunk.

“How do a Rito and a Zora do it anyway?” asked another through his laughter.

Teba threw his blanket back over the crude toys and dug his meagre possessions from his chest—his leather armour, a drawstring purse of rupees, and a single dagger he had acquired amidst the chaos of the Calamity; all the rest still remained with Sidon. He left the barracks to the peals of laughter and calls of his poor sportsmanship, but Teba had reached his breaking point.

Fauld and cuirass slung over his wing, Teba pushed into the captain of the guard’s office. The captain stood, surprised that someone would so brazenly push in.

“Teba—”

“I’m finished,” Teba told him, tossing the beret onto his desk. “And I hate this hat.”

“You can’t keep the uniform.” 

The captain’s eyes grew wide with immediate regret as Teba flung his leather armour to the ground and stripped off the blue tunic. It quickly joined the beret on the captain’s desk, Sidon’s forgotten note falling from his belt to the floor in Teba’s haste.

“What is that?” asked the captain, his eyes on the folded square of beige parchment.

Not knowing what else to do, Teba kicked it into the hearth, the fire consuming the brittle paper before the captain could make a move.

“Someone escort this Rito from the premises!” the captain called out.

“I don’t need an escort,” Teba snapped as he pulled on his cuirass and haphazardly tied his fauld.

“You could be a Rito spy. I always thought you were,” said the captain as two guards appeared on either side of Teba.

“You’re not interesting enough to warrant a spy,” Teba spat, collecting his rupees and dagger.

“We should exercise precautions nonetheless,” said the captain lightly. “Take him to the lock up.”

“My presence on this guard was requested by Princess Zelda!” Teba argued as the guards caught his wings. “I fought by her side during the Calamity!”

“Your people have all but declared war on us. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Teba struggled against the guards as he was dragged from the office, but more piled upon him, forcing him to his knees, cold steel against his shoulder pressing up through his feathers on his neck. Had he been able to move, he would have kept fighting anyway; the fear of death had never held him back. 

Across the room, Link’s blue eyes were wide with horror and he retreated from the barracks. Link would tell Zelda, Teba prayed as his fellows guards bound his wings behind his back and marched him down to the bowels of the castle. Zelda would put an end to this.

Thrown against the damp floor of the cell, Teba could not catch himself and the mental inlay of his cuirass scraped harshly on the slick stone. A guard yanked the binding from his wings, and Teba winced as he felt the rope come away with feathers. He attempted to push himself to his feet and continue the fight, but the iron bars slammed shut.

As the echo of voices and boots upon the slick stone disappeared Teba felt a wild surge of frustration, hot in his chest.

“Goddess, _fuck_!” Teba swore, kicking the metal pail they had left against the wall.

As the contents splashed up the wall, Teba immediately regretted his fury. His foot aching and his cell reeking of waste, Teba leaned his head against the bars.

“Is this what you wanted!?” Teba shouted toward the sky rattling the bars. “No victory comes without cost! _Fuck_...” Teba trailed off in a harsh whisper.

He should have paid more attention, he thought. Too lost in his grief, bound in the promises of Hylians Teba thought he could serve, he had not seen the dark fingers of war creeping upon them. Those promises of unity among peoples against the Calamity meant nothing when there was no longer an enemy to fight.

“I should have let it happen,” Teba hissed to himself.

How egotistical he had been—they had all been—to think that a better world was bound to come from their good deed.

\---

The sound of running water never ceased as Teba tried to track whether it was day or night, whether moments or hours had passed since he had lost his freedom. If he closed his eyes the splash of fetid water that flowed by could be the sound of the resting pool at Varo House—he had nearly convinced himself of that as he sat back on the straw mattress in the back corner of his cell.

In the dim light from sputtering wall sconces, Teba could not make out much, but the sound of boots echoing on the damp stone alerted him to the arrival of a single knight before the glow of a torch did. Teba pressed himself into the dark corner, until he saw the face of the knight who passed his cell; Link held the flickering torch aloft as he searched the cell across from Teba.

“Link,” Teba said, moving to the front of his cell in relief.

Link’s eyes lit up in recognition as he turned to face Teba.

“Did you tell the princess? Can you release me?”

Link sighed and shook his head. Teba had never quite figured out how to communicate with this Link beyond yes or no questions; he wished that he had brought Impa along to interpret.

“I’m not a spy! Why am I being held?” Teba asked, not really expecting an answer.

Link closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his throat working for a moment before he shook his head and made a sign from his shoulder to his hip.

“You don’t have to answer,” Teba told him, deeply sorry that he couldn’t understand Link’s signs. 

The Link of his time sometimes spoke, though Teba had never heard this one say a word. In either case, he recognized the body language of battle enough that he’d never had to second-guess Link’s intentions on the field.

Teba glanced up at the sound of Link clearing in his throat and drawing in a deep breath.

“...king,” Link finally managed, repeating the sign.

“The king wants me here?”

Link nodded, his expression grim. Resting his head against the bars, Teba sighed.

“And...the princess could do nothing?” Teba asked, knowing the answer before he saw Link’s disappointed expression. “As I expected...”

The slick cold of iron pressed into Teba’s forehead as he wondered if the note had damned him. He wished he had taken the time to read it before it curled to ash. Link sighed once more and made a gesture that Teba recognized.

“Link, before you go...” Teba half couldn’t believe he was about to ask. “Could you...Sidon should know where I am.”

Link nodded and brought a fist gently to his heart, his eyes sincere in their pledge. That at least Teba could understand.

“I’m appreciative.”

As Link disappeared with his torch, the dark seemed to press in upon Teba’s eyes where he stood against the bars. Having worn through the burning energy that accompanied his earlier rage, Teba gave in and sat down on the moulding straw mattress at the back of the cell—the driest corner in that rank cell. At least Sidon would not worry over him.

**Sidon**

As the sky grew purple and dark, it dawned on Sidon that Teba was most certainly not going to join him in Hyrule Forest Park this evening. A pair of Hylian lovers walked along the stone path, their arms around each other, glancing in his direction as Sidon sat down on the stone bench near the broken fountain.

Perhaps Teba had been called away. Perhaps he had pushed Teba too far. Perhaps Teba regretted their intimate night. Even Sidon knew he had slipped into irrational pondering as he stared at the damaged stone; Teba had said that he wished to continue their walks after all and Sidon knew Teba had received his note.

“Sidon.”

“Mipha, what are you doing here?” Sidon asked, catching the worried look in her eyes.

“I’ve had word from Impa,” Mipha told him softly. “Teba’s been incarcerated for espionage.”

“A spy? Teba? That can’t be so.”

“Brother, are you certain?”

“He wanted nothing to do with the Rito,” Sidon said. “Mipha, we must have him freed.”

“Sidon. If we interfere in this it may—” Mipha glanced quickly about. “We shouldn’t speak of this here.”

Sidon nodded and they walked the path to Varo House in silence, Sidon’s insides twisted in worry for Teba. Goddess, he hoped that Teba hadn’t fought back; his temper would only see him injured.

“Why can we not interfere?” Sidon demanded, the moment the doors of Varo House closed behind them. 

“Because,” came Muzu’s voice, and Sidon turned to see him approaching, “if you interfere on behalf of your... _friend_...you will draw the Domain into the conflict that the Rito have begun with the crown.”

“No one is at war!” Sidon nearly shouted.

“Not yet,” said Muzu.

“Where is he being held?” Sidon asked Mipha, trying to shut Muzu out of his sight.

“I don’t know.”

“You know I cannot leave him.”

“Sidon, I’m so sorry. I don’t see that you have a choice,” Mipha said, her voice nearly breaking for its softness.

“What is the good of such a position if I cannot use it to help the...”

Sidon trailed off, unsure what he was about to say. He certainly did not want to publicize the depth of his feelings for Teba in front of Muzu. 

At the sound of raised voices, the guards had come out to see what transpired in the front hall. Trello gazed down from the second-floor landing, and Sidon could read the annoyance on his face.

“The best help we can offer is to try and broker peace with the Rito,” Mipha told Sidon, her tiny hands upon his.

“I cannot go with you,” he said.

“I understand.”

“I have no doubt Princess Mipha can broker this peace on her own,” said Muzu. “You, however...”

“Muzu, Prince Sidon is deserving of the same respect as you afford me,” Mipha warned Muzu, a hidden steel entering her tone.

“And I shall see that _Prince_ Sidon does nothing that could harm relations between the Domain and the Crown in your absence, Your Highness” said Muzu, his eyes never leaving Sidon.

With that ominous warning hanging between them, Sidon turned and made for his quarters. If Muzu wished to stop Sidon making an appeal for Teba, he was perfectly welcome to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we shipping this yet? XD
> 
> Thank you so much to those who have left comments and kudos! They have been very appreciated ♥


	8. A Sliver of Hope

**Teba**

The metal plate scraped across the stone floor as a guard slid Teba’s meal beneath the bars. ‘Meal’ was perhaps generous, his usual fare consisting of a slice of bread from the night before and whatever remained of the stew from the guards’ mess. He ignored it as he had the last four—he estimated by the plates that had been offered to him that he had been here for at least eight days.

The lock up, Teba had learned, was never meant to accommodate prisoners, but instead to prevent theft of the supplies brought up from the docks. It was staffed by the Castle Guard—none of whom were familiar to Teba in the least—and they showed as little interest in him as he did them. One had once stopped to tell him he was fortunate that the gaol had been destroyed in the Calamity, but Teba hardly felt fortunate as whatever insects infested the mattress crawled beneath his feathers.

Time crept by with unbearable slowness. Teba’s only form of entertainment was attempting to piece together the snatches of conversation from the guards that passed him by. Once, as one of the dockworkers had bragged to a guard about his son learning to hunt with a bow, Teba had been reminded of those peaceful days when he had taken Tulin to the Flight Range with the tiny bow he had commissioned from Harth.

Teba thought of those he had lost as he always did, though he felt the urgency of the pain fading into a dull ache; what had been weeping wounds only a moon’s turn ago now tender like newly closed flesh. Somehow, that felt just as bad in its own way, as though he was forgetting those he loved.

When he wasn’t dwelling on the scars of grief, Teba thought often of Sidon—how he hoped that Link had managed to get word to him, how he regretted that he had forgotten to read that note, how much he wished he could see him once more...

“Hey,” came a voice from the front of his cell, accompanied by the sharp rattling of a sword-hilt against the bars. “They say if you keep trying to starve yourself they’ll force it down your gullet.”

“Let them try,” Teba said disinterestedly—if the Goddess had not gathered his family to her breast, perhaps Teba could at least enjoy the nothingness which followed life.

“Teba. Do you really not recognize me?” hissed the guard.

“Karro?”

“You think you’re the only one who can get a promotion?” Karro asked as Teba came to the front of the cell to see his former watch partner.

“What are you—”

“Stop refusing food,” Karro said. “We’re under strict orders that you’re not to die on our watch.”

For some reason that only made Teba want to starve out of spite.

“I see what you’re thinking, you prickly fool,” Karro grumbled. “That Zora prince has been up everyone’s ass about getting you out of here.”

“He...what?” Teba breathed, his insides a twist of emotion.

“Yeah, so don’t let yourself die because I’m afraid of what he might do.”

“Karro, wait!” said Teba as the guard turned to leave.

“I’m not supposed to speak to you.”

“Please just...if there’s any way that...”

Karro’s dark eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for Teba to finish.

“Sidon...I want to see him... if I can.”

Karro grit his teeth and sighed as though it had been torn from the very depths of his soul.

“I knew you liked fish,” Karro grumbled as he left.

**Sidon**

After ten days, Sidon’s petitions for Teba’s release had still gone unheeded. As Sidon returned to Varo House—hollow in the absence of Mipha, Trello and Seggin—Muzu’s sly smile greeted him.

“A letter arrived for you, Your Highness,” Muzu announced, the faux pleasantness in his tone putting Sidon on alert as he took the sealed letter.

As Sidon turned in in his hand, he saw the blue wax bore the seal of his father. He cracked it open, Muzu still looking overly pleased with himself as he watched Sidon unfold the parchment.

_My Son,_

_In the interest of peace in the Domain, I ask that you please cease your inquiries about the imprisoned Rito and abstain from further interference on his behalf—_

Sidon did not bother to finish reading, the paper crinkling in his tight grip.

“I see...” said Sidon, glancing over the letter at the aging councillor.

“In this pit of sin we expect that Zora and Hylians might find... _comfort_ in one another.” Muzu’s face wrinkled in distaste. “But a Zora and a Rito? The very idea is preposterous.”

“Is that why you’ve put an end to this?” Sidon asked, his tone measured. “Because you cannot bear the idea of a Rito and a Zora together?”

“I put an end to this because you are not being reasonable,” Muzu told him. “The whole of Hyrule is a tinderbox and you are the stray spark that threatens to drag Zora’s Domain into this conflagration!”

“He’s my friend,” Sidon insisted.

“And it would be perfectly acceptable to petition on behalf of your friend if he were a Zora!”

“His people are doing nothing on his behalf!” Sidon exclaimed.

“Be cautious when you raise your voice at me,” Muzu snapped. “I didn’t believe your claim in the Domain and I don’t believe it now.”

Sidon had so rarely desired to rage at another, but he instinctively tamped down on that urge. With a sharp nod at Muzu, he made his way to the second floor, hoping to close Muzu out until he could revise his plans. 

Sitting down at his desk, Sidon could focus on nothing save for the broken pieces of Teba’s bow that he could not decide what to do with. He traced the flared bowtip with his finger as he thought, wondering if he could defy his father.

It was growing dark when Ledo knocked upon the door, and entered, his expression a knot of anxiety.

“What is it, Ledo?”

“There’s a _Hylian_ here to see you.”

“Send them in,” said Sidon, far too exhausted to be bothered with niceties at this hour.

Sidon did not recognize the Hylian who stood before him, his hair in dark, loose curls, his brown eyes endless pits of sullenness.

“Greetings your...your Princeliness,” the Hylian stumbled.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sidon asked, hearing the edge that had entered his tone unbidden.

“I—Hylia, my head’s going to end up on a pike—I’m here on behalf of Teba.”

At those fateful words, Sidon’s aggravation all but melted and he stood, hopeful once more.

\---

“It has been four long days since last we heard from you,” Impa said pointedly as she matched Sidon’s long strides.

He didn’t have time for Impa now, he thought; his meeting at court had run late into the evening and he hastened from the main castle across the grounds. Whatever Impa was driving at would have to wait—Sidon’s next appointment would come only once.

“Lady Impa, I’ll ask that you please excuse me,” said Sidon, picking up the pace toward the castle gate.

“Prince Sidon! Don’t brush me off!”

Sidon stopped at Impa’s sudden impertinent tone and turned to face her, impatient to be on his way.

“Please, be brief,” he entreated her.

“Don’t fear for...for your friend,” she said beneath her breath. “I will come to you with word in two days.”

Before Sidon could question what Impa meant by this, she had turned to leave, and Sidon was reminded that he was running short on time. He had intended to return to Varo House to put aside the trappings of his office. Instead, he made his way to the isle east of the castle, removing the sash as he strode along the dark bridge to the island.

Glancing about to see he was being neither followed nor observed, Sidon made his way down the silty bank to the castle moat and stowed the sash in a bush, hoping he would be able to find it when he returned. Bracing himself, Sidon waded into the murky waters, clamping his gills shut in fear of breathing in such sludge.

“For Teba,” he reminded himself as he set out toward the docks behind the castle.

Cutting powerfully through the water, Sidon made good time. A light caught his eye and he spotted Karro standing on the dock, holding a torch aloft as he searched the dark waters. Karro startled as Sidon pulled himself onto the wooden pier, the moat water seemingly sticking to him as he got to his feet.

“I thought you weren’t coming! My watch is nearly over!” Karro hissed, gesturing for Sidon to follow him up the cobble path.

“My apologies.”

“You’re going to get me booted out of the Guard,” Karro complained. “Hurry.”

As they reached the lock up, Sidon was surprised by the dampness of the place, though the water all seemed to drain in one direction and out into the moat. Karro gestured to a cell and strode up to the end of the lock up to keep a lookout. His eyes adjusting to the dark, Sidon stood before the cell and saw the familiar pale plumage in the gloom.

“Sidon,” breathed Teba as he stood.

Sidon held onto the bars as Teba approached, his heart aching that Teba had been left here for a half-moon’s turn with no reprieve. As he dug at his feathers, Sidon could see how unsettled Teba was, shifting his weight and unsteady on his feet. Desperate to reach out to Teba, Sidon pressed himself to the bars, but narrow as they were he could only fit his hand partway through.

“Teba...I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to free you,” Sidon said, his voice breaking.

“I heard.”

Teba’s voice shook, and Sidon could not tell whether it was from relief or anguish. How badly Sidon wanted to reach out to that face, to hold him close and get him to safety.

“I should have told you sooner,” Sidon lamented.

“Told me what?”

“That you were in danger.”

Teba shook his head, his dishevelled braids swinging.

“I should have known,” sighed Teba. “But I’m glad I get to see you one last time.”

“This won’t be the last time,” Sidon told him, fear entering his voice unbidden.

“I don’t have it in me to stay day after day in this damp hell.”

“Teba,” Sidon begged, hooking his fingers through the bars, recalling Impa’s cryptic message. “Please, do not do anything rash. I believe there may be a plot afoot to free you.”

Teba reached up to the bars and caressed Sidon’s fingers with his primaries, that look of defeat still etched upon his face.

“Your Highness,” came a whisper in the dark, the sound of footfalls echoing nearer.

“This won’t be the last time I see you, my friend,” Sidon whispered. “Promise me.”

As Sidon clutched those soft feathers, Teba nodded, squeezing Sidon’s hand in return.

“We must go!” Karro insisted, the torch reflecting the panic in his dark eyes.

“Go,” said Teba.

Sidon bolted down through the lock up, his long strides taking him to the edge of the path where he dived back down into that filthy water. He glanced back to see Karro on the pier, his torch illuminating two guards who met him there. 

Drawing in a deep breath Sidon dived beneath the surface, holding his breath as he swam, praying the guards had not seen him. Barely able to fight the urge to open his gills, Sidon breached the surface and breathed in the foul air. Away from the castle, the water was not so murky, and Sidon washed away the evidence of his travels as best he could.

Gathering the sash of his office from the bushes, Sidon made for Varo House. The few Hylians he met along the way gave him his space, their faces wrinkled at the stench of the moat water. He reached Varo House in the pitch dark, the broken lamps in the quarter, still unlit.

“By the three, what terrible fate befell you?” Ledo asked, his face contorted with a grimace as Sidon stepped into the front hall.

“It’s nothing,” Sidon said as he made his way back toward the resting pool.

Sidon set aside his rumpled sash and scrubbed himself down before entering the pool. As he sat in solitude, he thought of the desperate way Teba held onto him through the iron bars, and wished that he could have done more.

**Teba**

Teba hadn’t seen Karro on guard since the night that Sidon had come to visit him, and he desperately hoped he hadn’t got the only Hylian sympathetic to his plight into any trouble. Teba had lost track of the days, though he thought perhaps three or four had passed since he had seen Sidon. Maybe it had been five? 

All Teba knew for certain was that from the moment he had seen him, the Zora Prince had come to dominate his thoughts. He wondered what the letter had contained—he hoped he would get the chance to ask. Since he had seen Sidon, Teba had given in and begun to eat the cold stew that was served to him, if only in hopes that he might make it to another visit. As he sat on his uncomfortable mattress, scratching at the bites on his skin, Teba realized that Sidon had imparted a sliver of hope once more into his heart. 

At the sound of a struggle echoing through the cavernous lock up Teba pressed himself against the bars to look for its source. Silence fell and Teba retreated to the back of his cell in preparation for a fight.

“Teba!” hissed a woman’s voice.

“Impa,” he breathed as he saw the cream and scarlet of her Sheikah garb.

“Stay back,” she warned as set to work on the lock with an iron hammer.

Finally, there was a clatter of iron to the floor, and Impa pushed into the cell with him.

“Should we not be going?” Teba asked her as she felt along the cracks between the masonry.

“You can’t just walk out, we’ll be seen. Ah, here it is.”

“What is...?”

Teba trailed off as Impa bashed the hammer against the wall until the loose stones crumbled away, revealing a secret passage.

“Follow me,” she said, pushing through the hole in the wall.

“Impa...where are we going?” Teba asked as he followed her down the darkened corridor.

“This passage collapsed a few years ago, cutting it off from the rest of the lockup,” Impa told him as she ran her hand along the wall.

“Collapsed? Are we not beneath the castle?”

“They were mining beneath the castle before the Calamity. Some of the Guardians we had hoped to restore were found here. Ah, here we are!”

Teba saw only a wall, but Impa pressed against the loose stones in the wall and they crumbled out onto the floor on the other side. The ground was rough, the walls reinforced with heavy beams, and Teba realized this was where the mining must have gone on.

He followed Impa through the abandoned mine to where it opened out to a cavern with a pool of water in the middle—a hot spring. Simply seeing the water made the bug bites on his flesh itch.

“I need to stop for a moment,” he announced, pulling at the fastening on his cuirass.

“Teba, this is no time to bathe,” Impa admonished him as he dropped his leather armour at the water’s edge.

Teba said nothing as he stepped into the spring, sluicing the hot water through his feathers in an attempt to kill off those merciless bloodsuckers that crawled beneath. When he emerged, he was not certain that he felt any better, but he shook himself off and pulled on his armour as he followed Impa.

“Why are you doing this?” Teba asked Impa as they entered another reinforced corridor.

“The Rito have every right to be angry with the Crown,” she said.

“I hadn’t expected such treasonous sentiment,” Teba remarked.

“The Princess has been at odds with the King. She believes that the peoples of Hyrule have a right to self-determination...but the King is rather more old fashioned.”

“Hm.”

“In recent years, the Sheikah have worked hard to improve our relationship with the Crown, but now that we once more mingle with the Yiga Clan, we have begun to be seen as...a _threat_ ,” she spat.

They followed the abandoned cart rails to the end of the mine. The moon shone off the murky waters of Hyrule Castle Moat, and Teba didn’t see how Impa would be able to cross. To his surprise, she jumped up and grasped the rail and moved hand-over-hand above the water. 

Following her lead, Teba leapt up atop the opposite rail, talons wrapped tightly around the cold steel. The rails brought them to yet another mine shaft and Teba jumped down onto the stone beside Impa. Disturbed by the echo of their landings, two keese detached from where they slept on the walls, their eyes glowing red as they launched themselves at Teba and Impa. 

Teba ducked to avoid the attack. Beside him, Impa made short work of the creatures with her her kodachi. Smiling grimly, she shook the carcass of one she had impaled to the ground.

“You didn’t think to bring a weapon for me, did you?” Teba asked darkly as she wiped the slime from her blade and continued on.

“Here,” she said, handing him a lightweight Sheikah dagger. What he would do with it if anything larger than a keese set upon them, he didn’t know.

“So,” said Teba as he fastened the dagger to his fauld, “you’re doing this because...?”

“It may not be prudent to talk about this here.”

They reached the end of the winding shaft where it let out near one of the obsidian pillars that surrounded the castle like the claws of some giant beast. The blue light it cast danced in the filthy water of the moat below. Though it was not a great distance, Teba wondered how Impa would cross.

“Would you...keep my clothes dry?” she asked as she began to shed her layers of clothing before Teba’s eyes.

Surprised by her lack of inhibitions, Teba nodded and averted his eyes, unsure of where to look.

“I hadn’t expected you to be so squeamish,” Impa remarked. “It’s well-known that Rito don’t wear trousers.”

“This is true,” agreed Teba, still not looking directly at her as he took the bundle she had wrapped her clothes and weapons into. “But even without clothes, we are never so naked as Sheikah or Hylians.”

He hadn’t thought much of it during their escape, but it seemed that Impa had been prepared for this eventuality, her hair wrapped in braids around her head that more resembled Princess Zelda’s than the traditional Sheikah style she usually wore.

Impa leapt into the cold water, not uttering a sound as it lapped about her neck and she swam to the rocky bank around the pillar. Teba took flight, Impa’s clothes and weapons clutched in his talons, and met her there.

Shivering, Impa wiped the water from her skin as best she could before she quickly pulled on her clothing. Her chattering teeth preventing her from speaking, Impa pointed to the city wall. It had been damaged in the Calamity—Teba recognized this to be the west wall from his nights patrolling it—but where it still stood, the torches along the ramparts were lit and the City Guard patrolled.

Impa gestured for Teba to follow her as she crept over the stony ground, pebbles sliding beneath her feet and disappearing into the water below. Scrabbling along behind her, Teba wished she had given him some clearer indication of where they were headed. 

They made a dash for the wall and cleaved to it so as not to be seen following along the outside. As they reached the point where the wall built into the rising rock, they broke away from it and climbed up and over the rocky hills until they reached the quarry. Still wary they might be heard, Teba caught Impa’s arm and pulled her near.

“Where are we going?” he whispered.

“To the road. Sidon is waiting for you.”

_Sidon_. Teba’s treacherous heart skipped beneath his breast at her words, so loud he feared it would give them away. He hurried his pace, eager to see his friend once more, and Impa matched it.

Standing at the crossroads, Sidon wore a dark cloak around his shoulders and held the reins of Impa’s horse. As he spotted them, Sidon smiled—a smile that reached his eyes. Flooded with relief, Teba had never been so grateful to see him.

As Impa took the reins, Sidon engulfed Teba in his arms, and Teba found himself clinging to Sidon just as fiercely.

“My friend, I’m so glad you’re safe,” Sidon said into his crest.

“We don’t have time for this,” pressed Impa.

“Of course not,” Sidon agreed, stepping back.

In spite of the urgency of their plight, Teba wished that he could have held on to Sidon a moment longer. How strange it was to feel this way, he thought.

“Where are we going?” Teba asked, overcoming the urge to reach out for Sidon once more.

“Kakariko Village; the princess and Link will meet us there,” Impa told him. “Let’s head out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely response to the last chapter! I hope you've enjoyed this one <3


	9. Submersion

**Sidon**

The journey to Kakariko Village took nearly three days. Teba, Sidon and Impa avoided the main roads and limited their sleep to only the darkest hours of the night. On the first night, Sidon and Impa split the watch, letting Teba sleep through his turn. Sidon had thought that Teba was in need of rest after his ordeal, but Teba awoke irritated that he had been passed over for the watch.

As their journey wore on, Teba flew above, on the lookout for approaching guards and roaming monsters. When they were in range of settlements, Teba would land and don a dark travelling cloak as Sidon and Impa did. Even with the cloaks, the three of them made for a conspicuous sight and kept their distance from populated areas. 

At night, as they settled by the fire, Sidon longed to hold Teba in his arms. Their joyous reunion on the roadside had been a slip, Sidon knew; Teba was never given to such obvious shows of affection, especially not in front of others. But as Sidon kept watch, he had eyes only for Teba, his wings wrapped around himself in sleep as he rested back against a tree trunk. 

The dread he had felt when Teba had been detained may have lifted, but he feared this growing affection he held for him. The night they had spent together had been for Teba, for whatever distraction he needed from his pain, but Sidon couldn’t help but recall it and wonder when he had become so ensnared by the proud countenance of the Rito warrior.

Their arrival in Kakariko Village was greeted with relief from both the Sheikah who met them and Princess Zelda. Teba and Sidon were shown to the inn, but Sidon had slept in the dry air for too many nights and sought a body of water outside of the village commons.

After consulting with Impa, Sidon climbed the hill above the village up to the darkened shrine. Through the woods was a deep pond beneath a foot bridge of skinny tree-trunks lashed together. The water was still, but clear, the reflections of fireflies dancing across its dark surface.

Laying aside his cloak on the bank, Sidon slipped into the cool water, refreshed to feel it flowing over his parched gills once more. He let himself drift, stretched out in relief as he sank lower, the sounds of the world above transformed into vibrations beneath that mirror between worlds. Even in the dark, Sidon could see movement through the ripples above. 

When he breached the surface, he startled to find Teba perched on the bridge above him.

“Teba. I thought you’d sought accommodation at the inn.”

“Sheikah beds are too short,” Teba said as though that should adequately explain his presence.

“I see. Surely you don’t mean to sleep on the bridge?”

“No.”

The silence grew between them, the water lapping at Sidon’s shoulders as he regarded Teba. Teba looked as though he wanted to say something, and Sidon wasn’t about to discourage the reticent warrior by attempting to guess what that may be.

“You didn’t need to accompany me,” Teba said finally.

“I couldn’t very well leave you in that cell,” Sidon protested.

“Perhaps not, but you left your post.”

Sidon nodded grimly; that conversation with Dorephan was sure to be uncomfortable.

“I’m sure I would have been implicated in your escape and questioned,” Sidon admitted. “I petitioned for your release for nearly a half-moon’s turn.”

“You didn’t need to do that either,” Teba told him crossly.

“What else was I to do?”

“Sidon...I’m grateful for your help, but I’m not the key to Rito Village that everyone thinks I am.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

“The Sheikah think that my rescue will yield an alliance with the Rito,” said Teba grimly. “It won’t.”

“I can assure you, when I sought your release, it was not with the intention of a political alliance.”

“No? Then why did you invite the Rito delegation back to Varo House?”

“You have no cause to be suspicious—”

“I have every cause to be suspicious!” Teba shouted.

“Teba,” pleaded Sidon, reaching up to the bridge.

“You would have me forget my entire life and be as placid as you!”

“No,” Sidon breathed.

“I can’t do that!”

“I don’t want that,” insisted Sidon pulling himself onto the bridge beside Teba.

Teba covered his face with one wing as he sometimes did in moments of great distress. Cautiously, Sidon put an arm around his shoulders. Teba did not shrug him off.

“I care,” Sidon told him softly. “Not about alliances. About you.”

Teba’s breath came out in a scoff, but Sidon had come to interpret that less as dismissal and more as Teba’s inability to voice his feelings.

“I don’t want you to feel as though you have to forget the people you love,” Sidon said, longing to straighten Teba’s twisted braid. 

Teba cleared his throat, his momentary lapse abating. Sidon wondered when that terrible wave of grief might hit once more, and desperately hoped that Teba was not alone when it did.

“Were you going to sleep here?” Teba asked finally, his voice still rough.

“I had thought to,” said Sidon.

Teba nodded.

“Do you wish for my company?” Sidon asked quickly, his heart pounding.

“Dunno,” Teba mumbled.

Teba shrugged and rose to cross the bridge, his incoherent response the only hint of vulnerability that he would allow himself. Sidon followed Teba as he lay down a little ways from the water’s edge and sought out a grassy spot to rest his head. As Teba settled himself, Sidon collected the cloak he had shed and folded it carefully. 

Though he said nothing, Teba’s expression was more grateful than annoyed as Sidon knelt beside him, offering the folded cloak. Lifting his head a little, Teba let Sidon slip the cloak beneath his cheek. As he settled in, Teba wrapped himself in his wings, and Sidon wished desperately for those wings to enfold him.

“I’ll stay as near as you want,” Sidon assured him.

“I’ll be fine here,” Teba decided. “You should...hydrate.”

“Teba,” Sidon said, resting a hand gently on the back of his wing, “I’m here if ever you need me.”

Teba offered nothing more than a nod, though his expression softened ever so slightly, the furrowed brow smoothing just a little. With that, Sidon returned to the pond and let himself be immersed.

**Teba**

When he awoke in the pale light of earliest dawn, the fairies had come to kiss fine the green blades with sparkling dew drops. Teba opened his eyes not far from the water’s edge, curled in the grass, Sidon’s cloak still folded carefully beneath his head. Beneath the still water, Sidon slept, placid beneath the crystal surface.

As he stared at the cool water, Teba dug at his feathers. The itch of raised bug bites still burned beneath his cuirass; he wasn’t certain that he had got rid of them all in the hot spring. Unable to stand the discomfort a moment longer, Teba worked at the fastenings on his cuirass and set it in the grass, his fauld and leg-wraps following in short order.

Standing on the water’s edge, Teba hesitated. 

When he had trained novice warriors in another lifetime, Mazli had once fallen into Hebra Headspring, the cold mountain air freezing his feathers in moments and stranding the party in the mountains overnight. As the winds raged around them, Verla and Guy had wrapped Mazli their wings as they sat by their fire, and Teba had prepared himself to lose him...to have to inform Mazli’s parents... 

It seemed ludicrous that his mind would wander there now; unlike the cruel Hebra winter, springtime in Kakariko Village was mild, perhaps a little too warm. That did little to alleviate his apprehension of submerging himself. 

With a deep breath, Teba slipped into the cool pond, keeping one wing on the rocky bank to steady himself. His feathers repelled the water unhelpfully as he tried to drown the pests that still seemed to crawl upon him. At the splash of Teba scrubbing at his feathers, Sidon surfaced, a look of confusion upon his face.

“If you wanted my attention, you need only have called. I would have heard you,” he said.

“I don’t want your attention,” Teba insisted. “That cell was infested.”

Sidon swam closer, his head bobbing just above the surface.

“Can you swim?” Sidon asked him.

“ _Tsah_ —of course I can swim,” snapped Teba, both wings grasping the rocks at the edge of the pond as he felt Sidon’s movements disturb the water into little waves.

Perhaps Sidon knew he was lying, because he reached one hand out to him. Seeing that kind offer extended, Teba hesitated; Sidon had been sincere, but the irritation that Teba had felt at that unexpected warmth only a few moons past had transformed into a gratitude that he didn’t quite know what to do with.

“I was born in the water,” Sidon told him.

“That’s strange,” said Teba, still squeamish at the idea of live birth.

“I mean that this is a home to me as the sky is to you. There’s no place you can touch the bottom; let me keep you above water.”

“Sidon, you don’t need to do these things for me. I’ve managed on my own well enough.”

“I don’t ever do anything out of a sense of obligation,” Sidon said, his hand still extended just beneath the surface of the water. “I only ever do these things because I wish to.”

Though he feared what it might mean, Teba took the proffered hand. As Sidon drew him near, Teba released the rocky ledge, his heart pounding as he moved through the water. The sense of security the shore had provided was suddenly so far away. All he had was Sidon in these unfamiliar waters and he grasped his shoulders, fearful that he might sink beneath the surface in his sudden panic.

“You’re safe,” Sidon told him, his hands moving to Teba’s waist as he held him afloat

“Suddenly in the sky you would be just as fearful!”

“You don’t need to fear,” Sidon assured him. “Cleanse yourself of that terrible place.”

Teba couldn’t seem to convince himself to let go of Sidon, his wings shaking as he held tight. Sidon pulled him nearer and Teba could not help but wrap his wings around the strong neck, bringing them nearly breast to breast. For a moment neither of them seemed to know what to say, breathing each other’s breath as Teba’s treacherous heart betrayed him.

“I’m sure this...has drowned them,” Teba gasped, though it was no longer just the fear of the water stealing his breath.

Sidon nodded. 

“I wish to return to the shore.”

“Of course.”

The edge of the pond was not so far away, but even in those few strokes Teba could feel Sidon’s powerful muscles rippling beneath his scales. Teba was almost ashamed as Sidon lifted him up to the shore, though perhaps scrabbling on the slick rocks would have been more cause for embarrassment than being handled so easily.

No words passed between them as Teba shook the water from his feathers and dressed. He thought nothing of nipping a few primaries back into place as Sidon watched him; it would likely go uninterpreted by the Zora.

“Teba,” Sidon’s voice echoed over the water in the quiet of the morning.

“Yeah?”

“I am unsure if you have thought about where you might next go.”

Teba had not thought beyond Kakariko Village. Any Hylian settlements had been barred for him with that daring escape—perhaps _all_ non-Rito settlements. He had heard there was a small Rito settlement in Akkala that had made it through the destruction of the Calamity. Saki’s ancestors had come from Akkala, and perhaps there he might find respite.

“No,” said Teba shortly.

“You would be welcome to accompany me to the Domain; I would be honoured if you would.”

For a moment, Teba stood still in thought, his fingers frozen on the laces of his fauld. Zora’s Domain couldn’t be any worse than anywhere else in Hyrule, though he feared what that might mean for him with regard to Sidon; someone was bound to get hurt in such an arrangement.

“I’ll...consider it,” said Teba.

Sidon smiled that polite and distant smile, and Teba knew that he had heard the trepidation in his tone.

“I’ll see you in the village,” Teba told him as he made his way through the wood to glide down to the village below.

**Sidon**

They had been invited to the hall of Impa’s family to break their fast. The princess and Link sat next to one another upon cushions around the low table, Zelda strangely flushed as they quietly ate their rice porridge with apple slices and courser bee honey. Impa was also unusually silent, her hair released from the tight braids she had coiled around her head and back in the flowing Sheikah style, her cheeks bright. Her mother, Lady Muya, leader of the village sat similarly quiet.

Beside him, Teba ate his porridge with efficiency and utter disinterest. He wondered if he had pushed Teba too far in asking him to accompany him to the Domain; surely, Teba would rather be among the Rito if the worst was to come. Sidon half-thought to follow him there, though he would have to face Dorephan sometime with the news that he had potentially damaged relations with the Crown.

The six of them started when the doors burst open and a gangly youth stumbled inside and inclined his head in deference to Lady Muya. His long white hair had come loose from its bindings, his courtly robes were splattered with mud, and he coughed as he caught his breath.

“Olin!” exclaimed Zelda. “Whatever are you doing here?”

Upon hearing his name, Sidon recognized the tall Sheikah as the court poet. If he was at all surprised to see the princess breaking bread with the leader of his village, Olin did not show it.

“Your Highness. Lady Muya,” he panted. “I have come with news from the castle.”

“Well, don’t delay,” Muya pressed.

“The King has expelled all Sheikah and Yiga from Castle Town,” said Olin. “Knights from the Hyrulean army march upon Kakariko Village. They know that the Princess is here.”

“I’ll call them off!” Zelda said vehemently as she stood.

“They’re convinced that she was kidnapped by Lady Impa.”

“That’s absurd!” shouted Impa.

“And...they’ve imprisoned Lady Purah...”

Muya’s expression remained impassive, save for the tiny line that deepened between her eyebrows.

“I have to stop this,” said Zelda, her hand over her lips.

“Goddess, do they want us all?” asked Impa, paling.

“I don’t know,” admitted Olin, his whole body quivering. “They most certainly want you, Lady Impa...and Link...”

As he shook, the poet’s dark eyes lingered upon the knight.

“Olin, sit down before you fall,” sighed Muya.

Olin took one step in their direction before he stumbled, and Sidon quickly stood to catch him. As he lowered Olin to his seat, Sidon smelled the ferric tang upon the air before he saw the blood on the poet’s robes.

“Your Highness,” Olin whispered, embarrassed.

“Perhaps we should summon a healer,” suggested Sidon.

“I’ll go,” Impa volunteered as she hastened for the door.

“Prince Sidon,” said Zelda. “Surely your people will not stand for an invasion of Sheikah Territory.”

Sidon said nothing as he stared at Olin’s injured leg. He could not know what Dorephan would think of such a blatant disregard for a people already vilified by the Crown. He would like to have hoped that his father would summon their armies in defence of the Sheikah, but these past moons serving in court had taught him otherwise; the Zora supported the Crown, and in exchange, they kept their titles, their lands and their sovereignty in a way that few others across Hyrule had managed to do.

“I cannot make any promises on my people’s behalf,” Sidon told her reluctantly.

“But you must at least try!” Zelda begged.

“I’ll go to the Domain,” Sidon acquiesced.

As the village healer arrived and took over from Sidon, he stood to face the others. The relative calm had descended into tension as they began to realize what would likely await them before day’s end.

“I would have you take Impa with you,” Muya asked of Sidon.

“Mother,” protested Impa before Sidon could respond.

“I will not allow both of my daughters to be taken!”

“I will take the blame!” Zelda pleaded. “I’ll tell my father that I forced Impa and Link to do my bidding!”

“Princess,” said Impa, her voice filled with both fondness and incredible sadness. “The king might accept that Link was bent to your will, but my integrity as Royal Advisor has been compromised.”

“Impa...”

“I must request that you release me from your service.”

“But where will you go?” Zelda asked, taking both of her hands.

Teba’s rough sigh caught their attention, and everyone turned to stare at his serious expression.

“The Sheikah desire an alliance with the Rito. I’ll take you to Rito Village,” Teba said as though he couldn’t believe he would volunteer for such a ludicrous mission.

“Teba,” Sidon breathed; he had just got him back.

Teba silenced his concerns with a sharp glance, that obstinate expression upon his face at once endearing and frustrating.

“The Crown’s forces march upon us,” said Impa, shaking her head, “and you and I don’t make for inconspicuous travelling companions.”

“I’ll fly you out.”

“Teba, I can’t let you do that...”

“Impa,” said Muya firmly. “I beg of you to consider this. We need the strength of the Rito if we are to avoid the same fate as our ancestors.”

“Teba,” warned Zelda. “I can put this to an end. Please, don’t let the Rito damage the peace that we have fought so hard for!”

Sidon could see that Teba desperately wanted out of this, his eyes darting toward the door.

“I’ll ensure the Rito don’t go to war,” Impa vowed.

“I’ll do my best,” Teba finally conceded. “But I am in need of a bow and a light blade if I’m to travel.”

“You’ll have it,” said Muya.

As they left the hall to prepare themselves, Sidon could only stare after Teba. He had spent so many days in that terrible fog, caring for nothing beyond his immediate duty. To see him now prepared to take such as risk for the peace of Hyrule buoyed Sidon’s heart. He prayed this would not be their final parting.

**Teba**

Impa had scaled the climb to Lantern Lake and awaited Teba as he collected his promised blade and bow. The kodachi was short, but lightweight compared to the unwieldy Hylian blades Teba had tested at the City Guard’s armouries. The bow was a simple wooden bow, favoured by hunters, but Teba placed little trust in it.

As he tested the sights outside of the bowyer’s shop, he wondered idly what had become of the fragments of his own bow, determinedly not thinking of how Harth’s hands had shook as he presented it to him for fear he would weep. Perhaps Sidon had thrown those broken pieces away—it would have been the wise thing to do.

“Teba,” called Zelda as he shouldered his bow.

“Princess.”

“I know that you’re not a spy. I’m sorry that I couldn’t convince my father to release you.”

“I’m grateful for the risks you’ve taken on my behalf,” Teba told her.

“Please, if it is within your power to divert this conflict...I will do everything I can to convince my father to grant the Rito their sovereignty.”

“I’ll try,” Teba vowed, though the thought of talking down a flock of hot-headed Rito was not one he relished.

“Be well, dear friend,” she said, resting her hand upon his wing.

Teba stared after her as she joined Link and the two set out to meet the oncoming armies with the same determination in their eyes he had seen when they had fought the Calamity together. His mind wandering once more to Harth, Teba thought he might have been stronger if he were by his side now.

“Teba,” came Sidon’s voice, and Teba felt an irrational surge of anger.

“What?”

“I wished only to bid you farewell,” said Sidon as he walked with Teba to the northernmost edge of the village.

There, the sun shone out over the shimmering swamps—the path to Sidon’s homeland. Teba stood for a moment near the cluster of rocks the Sheikah used to honour their dead, awaiting Sidon’s parting goodbyes.

“Farewell then,” said Teba dismissively when Sidon didn’t say anything.

“Have I done something to upset you?” Sidon asked, taking his wing.

“No.”

“Why have you grown so cold?”

“What did you...what became of my bow?” Teba asked.

For an eye’s blink, Sidon’s expression was one of confusion before it dawned upon him what Teba was asking.

“I wrapped the pieces in linen and secured them in my desk at Varo House,” Sidon told him gently. “I had thought to bring them with me when I left, but I had no means to carry such a precious gift.”

“You didn’t...dispose of them?” Teba asked, throat unbearably tight.

“No,” said Sidon, reaching out to take Teba’s face in his hand. “I would never discard something so important. I know Harth was dear to you.”

Overcome, Teba stretched up to Sidon, his wings on either side of his face and pressed their foreheads together. Sidon pulled him close, fins catching on Teba’s cuirass as Teba buried his face in Sidon’s shoulder. As Sidon held him, Teba regretted that this gentle comfort would be left behind.

“Please,” Sidon begged as he let Teba go and held his shoulders. “Tell Mipha that I will try to soften our father to an alliance with the Sheikah. Perhaps the three of our peoples together might help the Crown see reason.”

Teba nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“And return to me, my friend?” Sidon pleaded softly, his hand once more upon Teba’s cheek.

“I will,” Teba promised in a whisper.

Sidon smiled, his eyes alight as he stepped over the wooden fence that marked the edge of the village. With a final glance back at Teba, he dived boldly into the lake far below. Had he not his duties to attend to, Teba might have stared after him, wondering if ‘friend’ was truly enough to describe the bond that had grown between them. 

Instead, Teba took flight up to Lantern Lake to gather Impa upon his back and make for that distant pillar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the comments and kudos! The support I've received for this fic so far is truly amazing considering the improbability of this pairing <3

**Author's Note:**

>  **Content Warnings:**  
>  \- slight blood  
> \- moderate injury description  
> \- non-graphic vomiting  
> \- non-graphic sex  
> \- sexual harassment  
> \- racially motivated aggression


End file.
